i look for myself within you

Donghyuck scribbled his three step, foolproof plan on the margins of a page in his history notebook. It wasn’t that Donghyuck’s life was hell (he really wasn't that angsty), and it wasn’t that he hated his hometown (although occasionally he would dare to go that far). It’s just that Donghyuck knew there were places in the world where he would feel fulfilled and a time in his life where he would feel totally content. That place wasn’t here, and that time wasn’t now.

Despite the potential for copious amounts of teen angst to be brewing within Donghyuck, that simply wasn’t a case, at least not in his eyes. There was nothing he could be miserable about, not unless he thought about how lackluster his life had been for 16 years, but even then, he decided that the universe was simply building him up for something amazing when he finally had the chance to get away. He had stopped looking for something to redeem his high school years and was already enveloped in the fantasy of what his adulthood would hold for him.

“Are you going to that party tonight?” Jeno whispered from behind him, leaning forward to get close enough for Donghyuck to hear.

He snapped around to look at him, just so he could give him his dirtiest look. “I’m offended, Jeno. Truly.” When the fuck have I ever expressed wanting to go to a party? he wondered, questioning whether or not Jeno was in touch with reality.

“Sorry,” Jeno said with a shrug. “Just thought maybe you’d like to give normal high school activities a chance sometime.”

Before Donghyuck could reply with an snippy “I’ll take a raincheck on that one,” their teacher cut into their conversation, annoyance riddling her tone. “Lee Jeno. Lee Donghyuck. Don’t give me a reason to separate your seats.”

Donghyuck spent the rest of the period significantly more irked than he had been before, and he was already at a high level.

—

“Jaemin, are you absolutely sure this is a good idea?” Mark said, pacing around Jaemin’s kitchen as he watched him downing his third shot.

He rolled in eyes in reply. “Yes, Mark. Plus, I already paid Yuta for all the alcohol.”

Mark gnawed at a nail, wondering why the fuck Yuta still involved himself in high school affairs anyway. Apparently graduating didn’t mean you lost any attachment to the establishment or any reliance on the social gratification it tended to provide for those who were lucky enough to have it, especially not when you were living vicariously through your little brother. Mark hoped when he graduated next year that he didn’t turn out stuck in high school like the rest of their older friends, wanting to be more like his older brother Johnny, who kept a fair distance. He feared attachment might be inevitable.

“Jesus Christ, quit it with the nerves,” Jaemin sneered, walking over to where Mark was standing. Mark noticed his eyes were already a little glassy as Jaemin grabbed his hands. “You need to pregame, babe.”

Mark nodded, and a sly smile crept onto Jaemin’s face. “Vodka or tequila?”

“They’re both gross. Surprise me,” he groaned.

Jaemin gave him a quick peck on the lips before returning to his spot in front of the bottles of alcohol on the countertop, pouring shots that Mark would rather not take but that he knew he had to. He wished he could bail, but he knew none of his friends would let that slide.

Somehow, no matter how many times Jaemin went behind his parents’ backs and trashed the house, Mark could never get past the uncertainty and the vague secondhand guilt that always made his stomach hurt. He simply had to bear it. It would’ve been weird if he didn’t, and Mark truthfully didn’t think he could handle being seen as weird. He felt weird a lot of times, and he knew he was weird in comparison to the crowd he hung around with, but everyone else being aware of that fact would certainly exceed his limits.

He simply took the shots that Jaemin handed to him. As always. He couldn’t help but feel like he was Jaemin’s pet, a pawn in the game that Jaemin always seemed to control.

By the first time the doorbell rang that evening, Mark already felt a little bit warm and a lot less nervous.

—

Donghyuck prided himself on the fact that he didn’t give a single fuck what anyone thought about him. But as he prepared himself to walk into a house full of all his loud, drunk peers, he thought maybe a teeny, tiny, single fuck had slipped into his consciousness. He tugged at the hem of his shirt, some floral one he had pulled from his mother’s closet, letting insecurity cloud his mind for a fleeting moment. They mean nothing to you anyway, Donghyuck. Just have a few free drinks and get the bullshit over with.

He didn’t quite understand how Jeno had convinced him to go, considering he didn’t care much for drinking and he didn’t care at all for his classmates, but here he was waiting on the front porch of Jaemin’s house with Renjun and Jeno (an elite choice of friends who were, decidedly, better than the rest of the school).

“Just go in,” Renjun urged as Jeno rang the bell for the third time.

“Or we could leave,” Donghyuck mumbled. “It’s a sign from the universe that we should leave.”

This time it was Jeno who turned back and scowled at him. “You’re really pissing me off today, Hyuck.” He rang the doorbell one more time, and Donghyuck’s stomach knotted up just a little bit when the door finally opened.

Behind the door was an older boy who was just slightly too handsome, Jaehyun, and some girl he didn’t recognize, who was all over him. “Hey, guys,” he said, a goofy smile on his face. “Come on in.”

“How the fuck does Jaemin have so many older friends?” Donghyuck inquired as they walked through the door, absorbing the scene that smelled heavily of alcohol and slightly of weed.

Renjun shook his head. “No clue,” he replied, having to raise his voice a little bit to be heard above the music, which Donghyuck had already decided was shitty.

“He’s cool,” Jeno interjected.

“You’re easily impressed,” Donghyuck said. He could tell Jeno hadn’t heard him by the way he didn’t make a snide remark at Donghyuck’s disapproval. Jeno was, of course, a great guy, but Donghyuck simply wasn’t impressed by idiocy, and Jeno occasionally had lapses in judgment which normally came in the form of being impressed by Na Jaemin.

Jeno and Renjun quickly found some people they knew, to which Donghyuck rolled his eyes and headed towards the kitchen to find some beer or maybe just some space. Already, he needed space. Because Donghyuck was a people person, that’s how he considered himself, just not with these people. He pushed through the crowd, easily finding where he wanted to go. It was weird, he thought. He remembered coming to Jaemin’s house for playdates in fourth grade. He felt out of place being there now, for one of Jaemin’s notorious parties, especially considering they had fallen out pretty drastically. It unsettled him.

The kitchen was a mess, bottles and cans scattered everywhere. Donghyuck grabbed a can of beer that he found in the fridge, forcing himself to drink it even though he didn’t particularly feel much of a desire to do so. He stood in there for a moment, debating whether or not he should go find someone to talk to; he decided to stay there, leaning against the counter and scrolling through his phone aimlessly.

So much for “normal high school activities,” he thought.

People walked in and out of the room, too drunk to pay him any mind. All they cared about was getting their drinks and returning to pointless drama or flirting or whatever they had been preoccupied with before. Donghyuck had returned to his state of static disinterest, no fucks given and entirely unbothered with whatever they were doing.

Twenty minutes passed before anyone chose to acknowledge him.

“Lee Donghyuck, is that you?” a voice called out, words just a bit slurred. “I never thought I’d see you at one of my parties.”

Donghyuck looked up to see Jaemin walking in, being dragged by Mark, who was supporting most of his weight. Mark plopped him down on a stool at the counter and busied himself with fetching the younger boy a glass of water.

“Yeah,” Donghyuck said coolly. “Never thought I’d see me here either.” He hardly cared enough to look up from his phone, but he could feel Mark’s eyes on him from where he stood at the sink as he let out an incredulous chuckle, just a few seconds too late to sound comfortable. A bit awkward for someone so popular, Donghyuck mused to himself.

“Bet you didn’t have a drink,” Jaemin commented, condescension approaching the surface of his tone, just barely but enough for Donghyuck to feel it coming. Not that it surprised him.

He lifted up his empty can. “Bet you’re wrong.”

A slight scowl overcame Jaemin’s features, and Donghyuck flashed him a smile. If it wasn’t for the fact that Mark was now tending to Jaemin, forcing him to drink from the glass of water he had gotten (“Slower, Jaemin” “How about not at all?” “Jaemin, just drink it please”), Donghyuck knew he would’ve gotten a snippy comeback in reply to his own. He remained where he was standing, back to the distraction of his phone.

“Donghyuck,” Jaemin said once he had successfully gotten through the water. “Do you want me to mix you a drink?”

He looked up at him and raised a brow, knowing Jaemin would never offer that simply out of the kindness of his own heart. “No, not really.”

“Then why the fuck are you still here?” Even for Jaemin, it was cold. Angry drunk.

Donghyuck shrugged, shoving his phone in his pocket as he slowly left his spot against the countertop. “Thought I’d grace one of your parties with my presence.”

“It’s not needed,” he replied, giving the most hideous, condescending smirk Donghyuck ever had the displeasure of seeing.

Mark’s eyes widened, like he had never seen two people with tension between them before, like he was scared. “Jaemin, stop. You’re drunk,” he said quietly.

“No, it’s fine, man,” Donghyuck said, backing out of the kitchen. “If the host doesn’t want me here, then that’s that.” He could hear Mark starting to protest, as if he had some obligation to be kind and civil to Jaemin’s guests, let alone a person like Donghyuck who he hardly knew. Donghyuck didn’t care, though; he was already on his way towards the front door, ready to get out, get home, and spend his Friday night by himself.

“Where are you going?” Renjun said, grabbing Donghyuck as he walked past.

“Home. Tell Jeno his dream boy doesn’t exactly love me.”

Admittedly, Donghyuck had known that fact already. He hadn’t gotten along with Jaemin since elementary school, and that was fine by him. People like Jaemin bore no significance on his life, other than to annoy him and make high school slightly more torturous. He didn’t give the matter a second thought.

—

“Did you hear?” Jeno asked as they stood at their lockers on Monday morning. “Mark and Jaemin broke up.”

Donghyuck was always amazed at how truly naïve Jeno could be. “What’s this? The tenth time? Or the eleventh? I’ve lost count.”

“Whatever,” Jeno retorted. “I actually talked to him at the party, in case you cared.”

Donghyuck closed his locker, maybe a bit harder than necessary, and shot Jeno a look. “I would care more if he hadn’t kicked me out.”

“Not like you wanted to be there anyway.”

For being non-confrontational, Jeno tended to have trouble backing down from an argument with Donghyuck. Donghyuck was aware that he simply knew Jeno’s buttons and felt the compulsive need to push them (it wasn’t his fault that Jeno’s Mercury was in Aries, he knew the argumentative side had to come out sometimes).

Renjun sighed, rubbing at his temples. “Shut up, you two. Mondays are ugly enough without you guys coming at each other’s throats.”

Neither of them particularly liked upsetting Renjun, so they fell silent. Donghyuck was secretly thankful for it anyway — fighting about Jaemin gave the boy too much importance, and Donghyuck didn’t want Jaemin to have that much power in his life.

“Sorry, man,” Donghyuck said later that day in the cafeteria.

Renjun let out a laugh, one that quickly ceased when Jeno shot him a death glare. “Come on,” Renjun said. “I’m sorry too, but you know we’ve been through this before.”

Jeno’s eyes rested on Mark and Jaemin from across the room, eyebrows furrowed as he watched the two of them, normal as ever while they laughed, sitting just a little too close to each other for it to appear like there was still an issue between them. “It’s different, you guys,” Jeno whined. “Jaemin told me they broke up.”

“And I’m sure they did,” Renjun said. “That was Friday night, this is Monday morning. For Mark and Jaemin, a few days might as well be a whole lifetime worth of drama.”

“What’d he say to you, anyway?” Donghyuck asked, taking a bite out of his sandwich.

Jeno frowned at him. “You didn’t seem to care this morning.” Donghyuck rolled his eyes, and even though Jeno wished to be petty, Donghyuck knew he wanted to talk about Jaemin too bad not to spill.

“Well,” Jeno went on, “probably, like, twenty minutes after you left, I ended up in the kitchen, and I found Jaemin sitting in there looking scary pissed. I asked him if he was okay, and he started telling me about how he just broke up with Mark and how Mark always makes him look like the bad guy and stuff.” Jeno took a sip of water, thinking. “He was kinda oversharing. He was pretty trashed.”

Donghyuck laughed quietly. “Guess you have me to thank for that temporary breakup.”

“What do you mean?” Renjun asked.

Donghyuck took a bite of his food and shrugged. “I don’t know. I was arguing with Jaemin in the kitchen before I left, and Mark was sorta defending me.”

Renjun huffed out a laugh. “There’s no way they’d break up that easily.”

“Renjun. They break up weekly, I’m pretty sure there aren’t valid reasons most weeks,” he replied.

Jeno finally tore his stare away from the couple, looking at Donghyuck in some sort of awe, like he had just realized something. “Could you please do some more of that?”

“What’s that?” Donghyuck inquired.

“Making Mark and Jaemin break up.” Everything about what he said felt like a joke, but his tone held a hint of something just a bit too serious.

Renjun simply chuckled, and Donghyuck didn’t care enough to keep contributing to the conversation.

—

Donghyuck never paid attention to any of his classmates, not unless they somehow called attention to themselves in some way that directly impacted him. Even Jaemin, someone for which Donghyuck possessed an active distaste on most days, wasn’t significant enough to make a blip on his radar usually. He liked to think of himself as donning some sort of shield that allowed him to walk through life without ever being affected by the influences of other people.

So the fact that he never paid any attention to Mark Lee was nothing special or out of the ordinary. In fact, Mark had been so negligible in his life that he hadn’t even consciously acknowledged his presence in the back row of his math class over the duration of the first month of school. To Donghyuck, the most beautiful thing was the fact that his ignorance towards most of his surroundings was completely reciprocated — he rarely acknowledged people, and people rarely acknowledged him. Mutually beneficial, that’s how he thought of it.

It felt like a challenge when someone would try to enter his bubble, compromise his barrier, throwing off his equilibrium for a moment. On a Wednesday afternoon, which Donghyuck had deemed eerily calm to begin with, it was Mark who decided to challenge him in the form of a stare.

Donghyuck chose to filter out the background noise in his life, but he wasn’t oblivious. He could feel Mark’s eyes following him as he walked into the room, trailing him as he found his seat, a row ahead of Mark’s and diagonally placed. He was so obvious about it, and Donghyuck couldn’t help but think, just like that night at the party, that Mark was a bit awkward for someone so popular.

“Can I help you?” Donghyuck sneered, snapping his gaze back to meet Mark’s.

Mark reacted as if he was unaware of how blatant his examination of Donghyuck had been, stunned speechlessness dominating his demeanor. “I… uh… what?” he stammered. “I was… No.”

At his babbling, one of his friends, some jock who Donghyuck acknowledged even less frequently than he acknowledged Mark, turned his attention towards the situation. He snickered, crossing his arms over his chest with a smug look on his face. Mark finally moved his gaze from Donghyuck to the other boy, and like he had snapped out of a trance, the stars in his eyes disappeared.

Donghyuck waited, anticipating whatever stupid remark he would undoubtedly make. Where most people would feel uneasy, maybe even anxious, at the prospect of someone having an issue with them, Donghyuck almost felt too apathetic. He didn’t care.

Finally, Mark spoke, voice unsure but still accusatory. “Are you… wearing mascara?” His voice emphasized the last word like it would be some sort of mortal sin, volume raising, causing a few stray glances to be throw their way.

Donghyuck pursed his lips, watching as the boys sitting near Mark let out quiet laughs, their eyes passing judgment onto him. Mark looked bigger than before, but his eyes spoke of something slightly pained, and Donghyuck rolled his eyes. Don’t act like a dick and maybe you won’t feel guilty.

“Nope,” Donghyuck said with a haughty smile. “It’s eyeliner. Did you want to borrow some?”

The troublemaker next to Mark let out a mocking “ooooh,” and Mark’s expression returned to lost helplessness. Donghyuck already knew how this situation worked. Mark had to tease him for doing anything slightly divergent from the norm, and somehow his friends would be sheep, impressed by it. He waited for Mark to regain composure, knowing it would come.

It did, somewhat. “No, I’m good. Real nice offer, though, bud.”

“Not your bud,” he replied with finality, facing forward after catching the pink hue that had begun filling Mark’s cheeks.

Donghyuck didn’t turn around again even when he heard someone in the back saying something about how he was weird. He liked to pick his battles wisely.

—

He never bothered to mention the moment to anyone. Jeno would’ve used it as a springboard to catapult them into some sort of conversation about how mad he was that Jaemin stuck with Mark when he was that much of an asshole. Renjun would’ve used it as an opportunity to talk about the unfair power structure enforced through the societal pressures amplified by the microcosm of high school (Donghyuck thought he’d have to take to diagramming Renjun’s sentences to ever figure out what the fuck he was going on about). Two discussions which Donghyuck would’ve tuned out after about thirty seconds.

And that was it, there was no one else who he’d even consider mentioning it to.

So Donghyuck was left to bear the weight of what people said to him on his shoulders all by himself, as usual. And when he stopped to reflect on it, he knew that what those dickheads said, a bunch of other people were probably thinking too. He found it fun to be indestructible, until something finally made him crack.

Every so often, that would happen. Maybe a small comment would do it, that’s usually how it worked. Something that he knew was stupid would linger, linger, linger, like the light feather on top of a scale that was near capacity. When that tiny ounce finally pushed him to his limit, the whole infrastructure was compromised, and he was different. Those were the times when it was hard for him to face himself in the mirror, the times where he’d trade his usual eclectic outfits for the baggiest sweatshirt in his closet, the times where he wanted to blend in so, so badly.

He would repeat step three of his plan over and over in his head — get the fuck out of this town — awaiting the day it would finally happen.

—

When Mark entered Donghyuck’s forcefield again the next week, Donghyuck was understandably annoyed. Although maybe a person who wasn’t Donghyuck would’ve been a bit more sympathetic. And maybe a person who wasn’t Donghyuck would’ve been a lot less territorial over a room that literally anyone in the school could’ve sauntered into. That wasn't the case, though, not when Donghyuck now associated Mark with tearing down his shield, gnawing away at his confidence as insecurities filled his head at night, and, quite frankly, feeling like shit.

He looked up from his notebook, which he was scribbling in pretty passionately, to see big, bad Mark Lee sobbing the way a person sobs when no one else is within earshot.

His first thought, as selfish as it might’ve been, was why the fuck did he have to come to the one room in the school that I hide out in? This was a valid question in Donghyuck’s mind. Mrs. Kang had given him permission to use her room — a bright, colorful art classroom — during lunch whenever he wanted, citing him being “a perfect student” and “the school’s secret brightest spark” as her reasoning. No one had ever invaded upon his time there, especially since it was tucked in a remote corner of the school.

His second thought, as mean as it might’ve been, was he’s lucky I’m the only person in here because he looks awfully hideous when he cries. Donghyuck thought this was a valid point too. He would cite “just look at his face” as his reasoning.

Mark was too busy leaning against the door and covering his eyes as he bawled to notice Donghyuck quietly writing in his notebook and listening to music. He tore one headphone out, watching the scene in front of him, and he couldn’t help but let a scowl creep onto his face.

“Hey, uh, I’m gonna assume you wanted some privacy,” Donghyuck called out after a moment. He didn’t mean he was going to give that to him. He was simply making an observation.

Mark looked up, uncovering his face to reveal eyes that were, unsurprisingly, red and puffy. His eyes widened with shock and embarrassment for only a moment, a moment that Donghyuck knew wouldn’t have been so fleeting if the other boy wasn’t already preoccupied with another issue, and then it faded. He sniffled too loudly, wiping his face with the back of his hand.

“I’m sorry,” he pleaded, swallowing back tears (which was useless, he was still crying). “Donghyuck, right?”

Donghyuck narrowed his eyes at him. “Yeah. To what do I owe this honor of you knowing my name? Should I bow down now or later?” He let the thought slip into his mind that maybe it was unwarranted, which was hastily squashed by the memory of the mascara comment.

“Hey, I’m kinda going through something right now, man,” Mark protested. It didn’t sound as scary as it could’ve, thanks to the tears that were running down his face and the way his voice kept breaking. Wouldn’t have been scary regardless, Donghyuck told himself.

“Do it a little quieter next time.”

Mark coughed out a guffaw in disbelief. It only made more tears fall, though, and Donghyuck thought it was a little sad despite his greatest effort to stubbornly be rude to him. “No wonder he dislikes you so much,” Mark mumbled.

Donghyuck took out his remaining earphone, dropping his pen and leaning back in his seat. “Who? Jaemin? Oh, I’m so hurt by him disliking me.”

Mark winced, and Donghyuck thought the response didn’t make much sense. “Yeah. Jaemin,” he mumbled, fixing his gaze on the floor, at nothing. “Whatever. See you in algebra, I guess.”

“Can’t wait,” Donghyuck called out as Mark turned and walked out the door, sarcasm filling his tone. He shrunk in his seat the moment after Mark disappeared, feeling even smaller than he did when Mark and his friends had teased him.

—

“Happened again,” Jeno commented the next morning at their lockers. “Apparently Mark and Jaemin broke up.” There was a lot less happiness in his voice than there had been the last time he relayed this news to them.

Renjun raised a brow at him. “Shouldn’t you be over the moon excited about this?”

Jeno shrugged, picking at his nails as he considered it. “I don’t know. I guess. I heard Jaemin wasn’t very nice about it.”

Donghyuck didn’t frequently care about the world around him, but it would’ve been hard for him to forget the breakdown he had witnessed (and effectively attempted to shut down) yesterday afternoon. He thought it over for a second, carefully choosing his words.

“When’d that happen?” he asked, trying his hardest to sound uninterested.

Jeno pouted a bit, thinking. “Uh, I think around lunchtime yesterday?” Bingo. “Some people saw them fighting in the hall. Why?”

“Just curious,” he replied hurriedly.

“You’ve never been curious before,” Renjun commented. Goddamn Renjun and his tendency to (accurately) analyze every situation.

Donghyuck had already decided that he wasn’t going to tell them about what happened with Mark, and he wondered for a second why he bothered having friends if he wasn’t going to share a damn thing with them.

“Touché. Just thought I’d humor Jeno,” he said, dismissing the observation.

Jeno smiled. “Don’t bother, Hyuck.” He placed a hand on Donghyuck’s shoulder. “I think it’s time for me to let go of the pipe dream that is Na Jaemin.”

“He’s a pipe nightmare,” Donghyuck countered.

“Careful, Donghyuck,” Renjun said. “He always says he’s done with Jaemin, and then Jaemin breathes in his direction.”

Jeno looked at Renjun disapprovingly. “Not true. Sometimes he’ll smile at me too.”

“Right, sorry. You’re such a hopeless romantic, I forgot.”

Donghyuck’s face filled with a devilish smirk. “Says the one who watched Titanic last week just so he could have… what were your words, Renjun? A good cry?”

“You’re cold,” Renjun replied simply, and Donghyuck thought of yesterday in the art room.

—

Mark knew it was pathetic to go back to that secluded classroom the next day. He even checked over his shoulder a few times as he walked there, by himself, just to make sure no one (or at least no one of high significance) spotted him looking like a lost, sad puppy. He didn’t want to find anyone or anything there, really. What he wanted was a place to go where no one would see him eating lunch alone, or at least attempting to with what little appetite he had.

“Alone time” didn’t exactly sound cool to him, but that’s what he was stuck with.

He couldn’t sit with Jaemin now, and without Jaemin, the network of friends he had dissipated appreciably. Sure, there were a few acquaintances who wouldn’t have turned him down if he asked to sit with them. But he was ashamed, and he didn’t want to ask. He thought asking to sit with someone would be the equivalent of saying, “Hey, I have no one else, please take me under your wing.” Mark didn’t like to admit when he had no one. Which was rare anyway, even though he felt like it often.

When he arrived at what would become his new hiding place and found it empty, he was almost let down. Almost. Until he asked himself why in the world he’d ever want to deal with that kid when he felt this low, and when he had no answer to his own question, he shoved the feeling down, maybe saving it for a time when he wasn’t already riddled with every other terrible emotion in the book.

—

Donghyuck didn’t return to the room again for a little over a week, which wasn’t completely out of the ordinary. He used it for solace during bad moods or overloads of work or not wanting to hold conversations during lunch or those occasional times when Renjun and Jeno sought out company in other friends who Donghyuck didn’t have interest in putting forth effort to speak with. None of those things seemed to have been occurring, and still, he chalked his lack of usage up to the bad taste left in his mouth by the encounter with Mark Lee.

When he finally mustered up the courage to go back (he wasn’t sure why it required courage anyway), he was sure that a nightmare was coming to fruition, greeted by the sight of someone’s back, slim shoulders covered with a sweatshirt and black hair slightly disheveled. Mark.

Donghyuck nearly turned around and walked out, and he would’ve if Mark hadn’t turned at lightning speed from the sound of the door opening.

“Jesus,” Mark exhaled. “You scared me.” Donghyuck didn’t understand the fear on his face when first turned around and the relief when he realized who it was. He thought the opposite reaction would’ve been more appropriate.

“Didn’t realize this was your own personal room,” Donghyuck commented, walking in and letting the door slam behind him.

Mark scowled. “Yeah, I didn’t realize it was yours either the other day.”

Donghyuck stayed silent, knowing that’s how he had treated it and how he had viewed it too. Technically, he had been granted permission to the room, somehow making it his, but he kept the attitude buried deep. He knew anything he said would make him seem like more of an asshole than Mark, which was something he definitely didn’t want to be.

“Guess we can share it,” Donghyuck said, finding a seat at the same table as Mark, despite there being five other tables in the room. He didn’t do it out of politeness or fear of discomfort, he just did it without thought.

Mark waited for a second, staring at Donghyuck. Finally, he spoke. “Aren’t you gonna ask me… like, why I’m here? Or what happened the other day? Most people would want to know.”

Donghyuck looked at him with a laugh as he set his stuff out on the table. “Most people are too involved in everyone else’s lives. Seems like none of my business.”

The look on Mark’s face changed to confusion, forehead crinkling and a frown tracing his lips. Donghyuck thought he looked like an idiot, even more than he usually did, appearing like he was trying to figure out some complicated equation that was plastered to Donghyuck’s forehead. “Something on my face? You gonna make fun of my eyeliner again?”

He raised a brow at Mark, and Mark scrambled to respond. “I’m s—,” he began before Donghyuck cut him off with a wave of his hand.

“Save it. Don’t say anything you wouldn’t say around all your dumbass friends.”

Mark opened his mouth — to attempt to defend his friends, Donghyuck assumed — but Donghyuck shot him a look, and at that, Mark gave an embarrassed smile, like he had realized there was nothing to say in favor of his friends anyway.

Donghyuck put in his headphones, signaling that he didn’t want to converse past that point, and he was (pleasantly) surprised to find that Mark didn’t try to talk to him again for the rest of the lunch period.

—

Donghyuck didn’t want to make a new friend. He didn’t even want to seem friendly. Donghyuck wanted to mind his own business and stick to his plan, that was that.

And for that reason alone, he would avoid the art room as much as possible. Sure, it was his place, a place that Mrs. Kang probably didn’t even know Mark was using, but now it felt contaminated. Donghyuck never even invited his two closest (and essentially only) friends to join him in there. It was for privacy, something Donghyuck needed just a little bit too much of. It wasn’t private anymore.

Some days he would go in there, only when he desperately needed the space, rarely ever acknowledging Mark’s presence. Mark would watch him, almost like a person watches an animal at a zoo — pondering, reflecting, marveling at how this other creature lives — and usually Donghyuck would tell him to stop or simply give him a look that said “leave me alone.”

And for some reason, it felt like a secret that Mark was now using the room too. Donghyuck never mentioned it to Jeno and Renjun, because why should he? What would he say? “Hey guys, I’m spending time with Mark Lee”? That wasn’t true, he thought, Mark was simply in his space. “Hey guys, wanna hear about how I saw Mark having an emotional breakdown because of his breakup”? Maybe that was true, but Mark never said that was why, and Donghyuck had long since concluded that it wasn’t his place to be concerned about it.

They rarely spoke during lunch, and they never spoke during algebra, so by Donghyuck’s standards, Mark wasn’t even a speck in the grand scheme in his life. He was there, and Donghyuck was there separately, and there wasn’t a single thing that brought them together. Two completely autonomous entities.

—

“Hey, how come we don’t talk in here?” Mark broke the silence halfway through the period on a rainy Thursday afternoon.

Donghyuck looked up, so focused on what he had been working on that he didn’t even process Mark’s words. “What?”

The older boy looked regretful that the thought had exited the confines of his brain, but he repeated himself anyway. “How come we don’t talk in here?”

“We don’t talk anywhere. That’s your first mistake.”

Mark’s face went blank. “Oh. Yeah, good point.”

Donghyuck went back to what he was doing, unfazed, and the room returned to what Donghyuck saw as comfortable silence (because almost any silence was comfortable to him). He was sure that Mark saw it as uncomfortable, which was proven when Mark spoke again.

“Do you hate me?” Mark asked, and Donghyuck thought he sounded like a needy puppy.

“No, Mark. Hating you would require thinking about you, which I don’t do,” Donghyuck answered truthfully. Well, mostly truthfully, other than the fact that he did think about him when he remembered how awful he made him feel a few weeks prior. “I don’t particularly like you, though,” he corrected himself.

“Wow. Real nice,” Mark said, averting his gaze. Donghyuck could tell he had been looking for the normal, non-confrontational, polite answer. Donghyuck rarely used those, which apparently Mark had yet to find out.

Donghyuck chuckled, mostly at himself. “No point in asking a question if you didn’t want an honest answer.”

Mark considered that idea like it was something ingenious, like Donghyuck was some sort of pioneer on the forefront of communication techniques. “Sometimes people just ask things to be reassured, you know.” His eyes told of sadness, and for the first time, Donghyuck felt bad for Mark Lee. He wasn’t quite sure why.

“I’m sure there’s someone a lot more relevant to you who you could get reassurance from,” Donghyuck pointed out.

“Maybe.” Mark sounded ashamed, almost like he was embarrassed to admit to himself that he didn’t know who would be there to reassure him.

Donghyuck ruminated on Mark’s comment, and for the first time in a long time, he felt panicked about something other than a test he had forgotten about or an essay he had procrastinated. He felt panicked to solve the matter at hand. “We can talk more if you want,” he said, forcing it to sound casual.

Mark didn’t force “casual” at all, his face lighting up an amount that Donghyuck thought was absolutely silly. “Really?”

“I mean, if it’ll make you stop bitching,” Donghyuck replied, cognizant that this wasn’t the real reason and even more cognizant that he didn’t have the real reason. Mark laughed at the comment, and Donghyuck felt perturbed, wishing he had taken it as an insult rather than a funny joke.

“We’re not best friends now, just so you know,” Donghyuck clarified. “I don’t even know if friends is an appropriate term for it.”

“Understood,” Mark said, attempting to stifle the smile that had crept onto his face.

He smiles too much, Donghyuck decided.

—

Donghyuck came back again the next day. He didn’t owe anything to Mark, but he felt like an agreement had been made between them, and avoiding that room would’ve breached it.

“Lunch in your personal room two days in a row?” Renjun teased before he left. “We must really be getting on your nerves.”

Donghyuck forced a laugh. “Yup, you two are the worst. Good luck having fun without me.”

Donghyuck was the one who needed good luck, though, he knew that. He was now, somehow, sentenced to an indefinite amount of time talking to Mark, and he didn’t exactly feel thrilled about it.

“Before you say anything,” Mark chimed the moment Donghyuck stepped foot in the room, “I took the liberty of bringing you a candy bar. A peace offering.”

There was absolutely nothing about that statement which made Donghyuck happy, knowing that Mark had thought about him in any circumstance outside of this bubble. “Uh…” was all he managed to get out before Mark spoke again.

“Snickers or Milky Way? Your pick, I’m fine with either.” He held the two bars out in front of him, a glimmer in his eyes.

He lacks social cues, Donghyuck thought. He realized that Mark found nothing about this “peace offering” out of the ordinary. To him, it was acceptable, and that freaked Donghyuck out.

“Uh, Snickers,” Donghyuck said as he took a seat.

Mark smiled, handing it over. “Good choice, man.”

“There were only two choices, anyway,” Donghyuck scowled, hoping it would put a damper on Mark’s too enthusiastic mood.

It didn’t.

“Both great choices. You’re welcome,” he replied, letting out a chuckle that Donghyuck thought wasn’t necessary.

Donghyuck set the candy down in front of him and sat very still for a moment, motionless apart from his eyes, which switched back and forth between the Snickers and Mark who had already started on his Milky Way.

For Donghyuck, things had changed too quick, for no apparent reason. There had been no blowout argument, but there had been no overtly sweet resolution either. Donghyuck had never even gotten the chance to chew him out for making him feel bad (although he figured he had evened the score when he was rude to him in the midst of an emotional breakdown). Suddenly, from one meaningless conversation, Mark was ready to be friendly to him, and Donghyuck’s reciprocation of that sentiment was severely lagging.

From how long it look Mark to notice Donghyuck’s frozen stare, Donghyuck had deduced that he was quite oblivious most of the time. “Uh… Are you gonna eat that?” he finally asked, voice slightly muffled by the big bite of chocolate that was in his mouth. “Oh shit, are you allergic or something?” he said in a panic, eyes and lips forming three o’s.

Donghyuck’s eyes stopped shifting, resting on Mark’s face with finality. “Why did you do this for me?”

Mark swallowed before responding this time. “Do what?” He really didn’t get it, and that made Donghyuck nervous.

He motioned to the candy bar. “This. It… wasn’t needed.”

“It’s just what fr—,” Mark stopped himself, pausing to correct what he was about to let slip from his lips. “…acquantainces do. I thought it’d, uh, make you like me more… or something like that.”

Instinctively, Donghyuck began glaring. “Why do you want me to like you?” Donghyuck wasn’t used to that, and he certainly couldn’t relate. People didn’t normally care whether Donghyuck liked them or not, and vice versa.

Mark let that simmer for a moment, clearly not used to the challenges Donghyuck tended to present to people whenever he spoke. “Well… I don’t have really anyone else right now, and, uh…”

“So you want me to like you because I’m your last resort?”

“No!” Mark objected the second Donghyuck uttered the words. “No, no, that’s… Don’t put it like that. I just wanna be on good terms.”

Donghyuck nodded slowly, pursing his lips to stop himself from being a smart ass as his only existing defense mechanism. “Hm.”

“I know I was mean,” Mark blurted out, looking shocked that he let himself turn the thought into words. “When I made the comment in class.”

“Yeah,” Donghyuck managed to agree. He was completely taken off guard at the fact that Mark had even remembered it, let alone considered how he felt about it.

Mark scratched the back of his neck nervously. “Yeah,” he echoed. “I’m sorry if that hurt you. I, uh, well… I’ve felt bad about it.” At Donghyuck’s silence, he continued. “Did that upset you?”

There it was. The opportunity for Donghyuck to tell Mark where to get off. Maybe even make him cry if he guilted him a little too hard, like he had imagined doing once or twice.

The chance flitted into the air, illuminated, right within Donghyuck’s reach. But like some elusive lightning bug, the light went out, and Donghyuck didn’t react quick enough to grab it. Before he knew it, the fire of anger that had sat in the pit of his stomach since the moment Mark had wronged him was gone, and it was replaced with something different, something unknown.

“No,” Donghyuck replied, finally picking up his chocolate bar. “It wasn’t anything I hadn’t heard before. It’s fine, really.”

He wasn’t sure why he lied, and he swore it couldn’t have been to protect Mark’s emotions. Donghyuck never lied to protect anyone’s emotions, and he wasn’t about to make a habit out of it. But Donghyuck couldn’t help but notice how much Mark lit up when he took his first bite of the peace offering, and he thought for a split second that maybe lying just that once couldn’t possibly be the worst thing in the world.

—

“You’re being odd lately,” Renjun noted, narrowing his eyes at Donghyuck as the trio sat in Jeno’s kitchen after school.

Donghyuck returned the look, sipping on a can of soda. “You always think I’m being odd, Renjun.”

“No, Donghyuck-level odd is normal. This is abnormal.” He poked Jeno’s arm. “Jeno, tell him he’s being odder than usual.”

Jeno shrugged, getting up to grab a bag of Cheetos from the pantry. “A little, I guess.”

“You’re no help!” Renjun said, exasperated, turning his gaze from Jeno back to Donghyuck. “Did something happen?”

That was a loaded question. No, nothing had happened. Not really. Kinda, maybe. Donghyuck didn’t know the answer himself, and he had spent the last few hours convincing himself that he simply wasn’t used to making a new — dare he say it — friend, settling on the idea that talking so much with someone other than his family and his two best friends was exhausting.

“No, Dr. Renjun,” he mocked. “I’m fine.”

Renjun’s eyes crinkled as a sneaky smile grew on his face. “I never asked if you were fine, I asked if something happened. So something is up.”

Donghyuck groaned, eliciting a laugh from Jeno as he sat down again. “You’re good, man,” Jeno commented.

“So I’ve heard. But seriously, Donghyuck, spill now,” Renjun said.

Donghyuck sat on the request for a moment, a slight pout on his lips as he thought. Spill made it sound like Donghyuck had some juicy gossip to share, some riveting story to tell his friends. He didn’t, or at least he didn’t consider what was on his mind to be juicy or riveting. It just was. It happened, and it was. He finally settled on something just cryptic enough to appease Renjun’s therapeutic tendencies while not revealing anything substantial.

“Do you ever think a lot about something a person said to you?” He told himself that question was in reference to the teasing in algebra, knowing it might have also been in reference to the comment about wanting Donghyuck to like him more. Either way, it was about Mark Lee.

Renjun chuckled. “Yeah, welcome to the human race. That’s what we call having emotions. Is your complete disregard for everyone in the world finally failing you?”

“No. I’m appalled you’d even think that.”

“Okay, well,” Renjun said, tone softening, “that’s normal. Why, though? Is someone bullying you? I swear to God, you better tell us if someone’s bullying you.”

Donghyuck nearly let out a laugh, but at the expectant concern that filled Renjun’s eyes and even begun filling Jeno’s, he stifled it. “No, I’m not getting bullied, jeez. I was just… thinking about something someone said.”

Renjun had been through Donghyuck’s ambiguous allocation of his feelings enough times not to quarrel with him over it. With a sigh, he conceded his argument. “You know, you can share stuff with us.”

“Start by sharing those Cheetos with me,” Donghyuck said with a triumphant smile as he snagged one from Jeno’s bag (much to Jeno’s chagrin), and the mood was light once again. Neither of them pressed him about his feelings any further that day, but Donghyuck failed to notice the frown that stayed behind on Renjun’s face for the next few moments.

—

Within a few days, Donghyuck came to find that Mark talked a lot.

He would ramble sometimes, a story that should’ve lasted five minutes taking up double that time, complete with Mark laughing as he spoke and adding in sound effects that were reminiscent of those a six year old would make. When he caught himself rambling, he would always apologize, go quiet for a moment, and then proceed to ramble again about the next thing that came to mind. Donghyuck told himself having no one to talk to was really forcing Mark to unload all his content on him.

“You don’t have to fill every second of silence, you know,” Donghyuck said one day, and Mark looked not quite offended, but almost.

“I don’t try to! I just… I don’t know,” he replied, blush on his cheeks from his lack of explanation.

Shockingly, though, Donghyuck also came to find that he didn’t really mind how much Mark talked. Mark was funny, in some unexpectedly strange way, even though Donghyuck tried his hardest not to laugh at the things he said.

Mark, on the other hand, laughed way too hard at the smallest comments, even the ones that held no comedic value whatsoever. Donghyuck had decided that if he breathed a little too loudly, Mark would laugh about it. On one occasion, he had even sprayed milk from his nose at a joke that was in unfortunate synchronization with his sip.

Still, as much as Mark talked (and as much as Donghyuck indulged in all the things he shared, which for the most part, Donghyuck thought were unnecessary and slightly annoying), they never spoke a word to each other outside their place. Not our place, Donghyuck would remind himself when the thought came to mind. My place, which Mark invaded so rudely.

Quite frankly, Donghyuck didn’t mind the separation that existed between them. He had stuck with the idea that Mark Lee was not his friend, even though sometimes they acted like friends. But that was sometimes, on weekday afternoons approximately between 12 and 12:45. Not even in algebra did they acknowledge each other’s presences. Not even when they would see each other in the hallway.

They had never discussed it, never reached an agreement. It existed without words. Donghyuck liked it because he never had to explain to his friends why he associated with Mark (even though he figured they’d eventually grow increasingly suspicious about the reason behind his lunch whereabouts), and Donghyuck figured Mark liked not being seen with him. And that was okay, because Donghyuck thought he liked not being seen with Mark too.

—

“You’re annoying,” Donghyuck chimed at some stupid joke Mark had told. He suspected that maybe he was more annoyed about the fact that Mark was making him laugh, no matter how hard he tried not to.

“Sure, but I still made you laugh.” Which was true.

Donghyuck rolled his eyes, lounging back in his seat. “And I make you laugh everyday. So who’s the real winner here?”

Mark’s cheeks burned pink for an instant, something that wasn’t quite uncommon. Donghyuck felt an emotion resembling annoyance every time it would happen, and he wasn’t sure why. He just didn’t see why Mark needed to be so embarrassed over everything all the time.

“Whatever,” Mark replied, averting his gaze.

For a moment, the room fell silent, silent with a brewing expectation of what was to come. Donghyuck could feel Mark having more to say by the way he fidgeted in his seat, until finally he looked back to Donghyuck again.

“Hey,” Mark started. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but don’t you have people who you could sit with?”

Donghyuck did everything in his power to not pull a Mark Lee, to not glow bright red at the question. He wasn’t sure if it had worked. “I do,” he dismissed the comment, sarcasm in his tone. “Are you not a person?”

Mark shook his head as if Donghyuck actually didn’t know what he was asking. “No, I know you have friends,” he emphasized the last word, referencing the clear distinction Donghyuck had made about the pair not being friends. “But you’ve sat in here with me for, like, a week straight…”

“Yes, I have friends,” he retorted, and it was almost defensive enough to sound like he was lying.

“Wouldn’t you rather sit with them?” Mark said.

Coming from anyone else, it would’ve been rude, but there was that sad puppy tone in his voice, letting Donghyuck know he really was asking because he felt like a burden, or something dramatic like that. He paused for a second, not sure how to answer because, truthfully, he had never thought about it before.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” he responded, wanting to be as vague as possible.

Mark sighed, pensive. “Why, Donghyuck?”

“I don’t know, Mark hyung,” he countered, slightly agitated, mostly at himself for not having an answer. “Why are you here?”

Mark winced, just for long enough for Donghyuck to register that it hurt him a little. “I, uh… there’s really no one for me to sit with.”

Just like that day when Mark asked why they didn’t talk, Donghyuck felt panicked. A panic that had only ever felt due to Mark, a panic that made him resent Mark just a little bit because he inspired it within him. A panic that told Donghyuck he just absolutely had to sugarcoat things to make Mark feel better.

“Well, what about that guy in our algebra class?” Donghyuck softened his voice, attempting to be helpful. He stumbled a bit over the word our, not exactly liking for anything between him and Mark to be theirs, but it was, and so he decided he had to say it.

“He’s… uh, he’s friends with Jaemin.” His voice got exponentially quieter as he uttered the final word, rubbing the back of his neck as he usually did whenever he got nervous.

For the first time since Mark had run into the room crying, Donghyuck heard him mentioning Jaemin, and it felt foreign, like it didn’t quite belong. Without ever explaining, Mark knew that Donghyuck knew, as everyone else in the school knew. Donghyuck wasn’t about to play dumb.

“Tough shit. Jaemin’s an asshole,” Donghyuck replied without thinking. You’re supposed to think Mark’s an asshole too, he told himself, cursing the fact that he was allowing there to be a distinction between the two of them.

“Hey!” Mark protested, voice getting higher. “Jaemin’s not that bad, you know.”

Donghyuck knew romantic relationships were complicated, even if he had never experienced one firsthand. Donghyuck knew people loved people, even if they didn’t treat each other right. Donghyuck knew caring about someone who was awful didn’t make a person daft, even if it might seem that way.

Despite that knowledge, Donghyuck felt something tug in his heart. Even though he wanted to stand by the opinion that Mark was an asshole, the universe seemed to be swaying him to believe otherwise, to appreciate that Mark was still capable of seeing the good in a person who appeared to be nothing but bad.

“Someone who isn’t that bad wouldn’t isolate you from all your friends, you know,” Donghyuck reasoned, telling Mark the things that he was now aware Mark would never conclude by himself.

Mark looked down, picking at a hangnail. “They were his friends to begin with.”

“You’re not an extension of Jaemin,” Donghyuck replied, spouting words that he didn’t even realize he felt in the first place. “They’re his friends, but they’re your friends too.”

When Mark’s eyes met Donghyuck’s again, a faint ghost of a smile was on his lips. “Thanks, Donghyuck.”

Donghyuck nodded his head in response, letting the equanimity of the room return as they quietly ate. He felt, somewhere deep inside, like there was more to be said, left on the tip of his tongue and threatening to spill over. He looked to Mark, who for once paid him no mind, staring out the window with soft brown eyes, looking like he simply wanted to gain composure. Composure that had been lost at the topic of Na Jaemin. For some reason, it hurt Donghyuck to watch.

“I like sitting in here with you,” Donghyuck blurted. “So don’t start acting like I’m doing some sort of charity work for you,” he said with a laugh, hoping to play it off and sound less serious than he had originally.

Mark grinned, and Donghyuck reminded himself that the two of them absolutely were not friends in any way, shape, or form.

—

“So what do you do during lunch now?” Jisung asked as he rummaged through Mark’s fridge. Jisung, Mark’s neighbor, was truthfully the only person who still regularly associated with him, without trying to hide it. If it wouldn’t have been considered so weird for him to sit with a freshman during lunch, maybe he would’ve spent time with Jisung instead of Donghyuck. Maybe.

“Uh… There’s this room I go to,” Mark said, never making eye contact with Jisung.

Jisung cackled, turning around to look at Mark. “So you’re telling me you sit by yourself in some room?”

Mark knew he could’ve told Jisung the truth. He had known Jisung since he was in diapers, and he was pretty sure he fell higher on the social ranking than some freshman anyway (although he wasn’t completely certain given the current circumstances).

But his mind followed a train of thought that steered him far away from that idea. Because if Jisung told Chenle, then Chenle could tell anyone, but he was sure he’d at least tell Sicheng because they played soccer together, and Sicheng would tell Jaehyun, and Jaehyun would tell Yuta, and Yuta would obviously tell Jaemin, and Jaemin would tell anyone who even remotely knew him. And soon everyone would know. With that slight chance in existence, Mark told a lie.

“Yup,” Mark said. His voice got quieter. “I mean, sometimes other people are in there, but yeah, just me in some room.”

“Wow, that is truly sad,” Jisung said. He was never one for sympathy. “You need to get back together with Jaemin soon.”

Mark inwardly cringed at the thought of crawling back to Jaemin again, of succumbing to the same old familiar patterns again. This was the first time they’d broken up and actually gone more than a few days without speaking, and as much as Mark hated it, he felt liberated. Still, he knew what people expected of him, and that was to be with Jaemin.

Slowly, he nodded in reply. “Yeah, guess I do.”

—

Donghyuck wondered why he told Mark, out of all the things in the world that he could’ve said, that he liked to sit with him. Because he sure as hell had ruled out the idea that he actually liked it.

Maybe, he thought to himself, I’m nicer than I originally thought. Maybe I’m actually capable of being fake to comfort people.

He liked that option best, but he also thought it was the least plausible. He had never been great at unnecessary kindness or sugarcoating or anything remotely near comfort. And yet, that’s exactly what he had given to Mark, and it was bothering him more than it should’ve.

A lot of things were adding up, and they were bothering him more than they should’ve.

“Please don’t make fun of me when I show you what I got on that algebra test,” Mark begged, clutching the paper in his hand.

Donghyuck rolled his eyes. “Oh, for God’s sake, Mark hyung. Just show me already.”

Mark sighed, flipping the page to reveal a bright red 56 written in the top right corner. His face was contorted into a shameful grimace. Donghyuck simply shook his head.

“We all fail tests once or twice, man.”

“Donghyuck,” Mark said, “I have a 64 in there right now.”

“Okay. So you’ve failed twice or thrice,” he corrected himself, stifling a chuckle.

Mark huffed a long, drawn-out sigh, shoving the paper back into his backpack in a hurry, as if getting it out of his sight would somehow stop it from being real. “I’m screwed.”

Donghyuck considered the situation for a moment, remembering his 92 on the test and 90 in the class overall. That was, of course, thanks to the amount of studying he did — the product of too much free time and of how much his mom bugged him about it.

Donghyuck didn’t particularly notice Mark outside of the art room, but he did have to admit that since they had started their acquaintanceship, he might’ve paid him some more mind, and he thought Mark seemed to at least try hard in class. As hard as his cool façade would allow him to let on.

“Well,” Donghyuck started, knowing he was about to, once again, say something he would regret. “Do you need help?”

From the look on his face, Donghyuck swore Mark nearly spat out his water. “From you? Like, for real?” He almost sounded excited, and Donghyuck wanted to do anything in his power to kill that excitement before it grew too big.

“Yeah, I mean, I know I’m younger than you or whatever, but my grade in algebra is decent,” he replied coolly. “Just forget it.”

“No, no, no,” Mark protested. “I really need it. Seriously, I’d be eternally grateful.”

Donghyuck hated it. Feeling like Mark was eager about anything involving him. It made him feel off, like something was out of place.

“Alright, if you insist.”

“Do you… uh, wanna come over my house or something?” Mark asked, cowering as if he was scared of Donghyuck’s reaction.

For the very first time, Donghyuck felt himself losing restraint. Donghyuck felt the walls that he had built crumbling — just a little, but a little was much more than he was used to. Donghyuck felt the way people feel when they’re on the brink of something dangerous, and he was scared.

“Is that necessary?” he replied nervously. “I mean, we’re in here everyday.”

Mark shrugged. “My house has pizza, though.”

Donghyuck took a moment, watching the excitement on Mark’s face falter — just like he swore he wanted. He realized he didn’t want it at all. He wanted to like bursting Mark’s bubble, but he just didn’t. The appeal that it once had was gone.

“I tutor you, you buy me pizza?” Donghyuck suggested, changing his tune from his previous pessimism. Changing it for Mark’s sake, and maybe for his own sake too.

Mark smiled, bright and happy again. “Deal. Tomorrow night?”

“You wanna study on a Friday night?” Donghyuck asked incredulously.

“We can do it another time. Really. Whenever’s good for you,” he replied, hands up in protest.

“Studying on a Friday night is fine by me.”

—

“So I’m assuming Jaemin’s Halloween party tonight is out of the question for you?” Jeno said from behind Donghyuck, poking his shoulder.

Just like a few weeks prior, a few weeks that felt like an era ago, Jeno was making first period history class feel even more hellish for Donghyuck than Mrs. Choi already made it, once again with the mention of Jaemin and his parties.

“No costume,” Donghyuck said, donning a sarcastic smile. “Jaemin doesn’t need one, though. He’s the devil already.”

Jeno laughed, carefully eyeing Mrs. Choi before speaking to make sure she was out of earshot. “I don’t think I’m going either. I’m over it.”

“Wow, I’m proud of you, man.”

Jeno rolled his eyes. “You wanna hang out with me and Renjun instead?”

Donghyuck directed his gaze back to the book on his desk, a slight apprehension overcoming him as he remembered what his actual plans for the night were. He knew it wasn’t out of the ordinary for him to blow off plans with Jeno and Renjun, and his friends knew that too, but normally it was just because he didn’t feel like it. Now that he had to lie, it wasn’t sitting right with him.

“Uh, nah,” he said over his shoulder. “I have stuff to do.”

“Stuff?” Jeno whispered, sounding amused. “Renjun’s right, you are being odder than usual.”

Donghyuck shook his head, ignoring Jeno. He could bear being “odder than usual” for the sake of — he wasn’t sure what. For the sake of his pride? His dignity? Not having anyone know that he associated with Mark? As if Mark being seen with Donghyuck would make him seem like an asshole, and as if Donghyuck being seen with Mark would make him seem like a weirdo. Both of which people certainly would think. Both of which (moreso the first of which) why Donghyuck was keeping the secret.

—

Donghyuck had ultimately decided that the out of season, terrible weather was a bad omen for what was to come and a sign that he most certainly should not be entertaining the likes of Mark Lee.

Gazing out the glass door at the front of the school, he watched rain pelting the sidewalk, occasionally illuminated by bolts of lightning and accompanied by the purr of thunder. For the end of October, this was completely unseasonal. His stomach churned at the thoughts swirling through his head, forming knots at each strike that lit up the sky, and he considered leaving before Mark even had a chance to show up. Something kept his feet cemented to where he stood.

Impatient, he looked at his phone screen, rereading the message that he had already read four times.

Mark

[2:54 PM] Be there in 5 :)

Sure, Donghyuck had to admit there was no purpose in reading over that text so many times. There was nothing significant about it. But somehow, he felt strange having that contact saved to his phone (something Mark had suggested in order for them to meet), almost as if he was committing treason, associating with the enemy. He didn’t want Mark to have a spot in his messages, and he almost would say he didn’t want to be going over his house either. But then again, he wasn’t ditching him.

“Hey, sorry,” he heard a voice from behind him.

“That was longer than five minutes,” Donghyuck said as he turned, scowling.

Mark looked at his phone, disbelief on his face when he looked at the time. “It was six minutes, Donghyuck! Six!”

Donghyuck knew it was petty, but he needed some way to channel his annoyance towards the general direction his life was headed at that exact moment. “I don’t have all day, you know.”

Mark’s jaw was nearly plastered in its place, completely dropped. “Your only plans are with me!”

“Fine,” Donghyuck conceded like a pouty child, pulling up the hood of his jacket and grabbing his backpack off of its spot on the floor. “What took you so long then?”

Mark shrugged, avoiding eye contact as if it would kill him to say what he was about to say while looking Donghyuck in the eyes. Following suit and pulling up his own hood, he walked towards the door. “I don’t know. Just wanted to make sure the coast was clear.”

That was fine, Donghyuck thought, because he did the same thing. He didn’t want people to see him with Mark just as much as Mark didn’t want people to see him with Donghyuck. Still, Donghyuck felt a pang of disappointment, for some reason that he wasn’t sure of.

Donghyuck couldn’t decide what he hated more: walking home with Mark or being caught in a torrential downpour.

With how hard the wind was blowing and how much lightning was in the sky, he figured an umbrella was both useless and deadly at this point. But part of him wanted to pull out the umbrella, hoping maybe lightning would strike him and get him out of the terrible mess that was hanging out with Mark. He knew that was an equally terrible solution to his problem — the only thing more inexplicable than hanging out with Mark would be dying with him right by his side. His ghost wouldn’t be able to explain himself out of that one.

By the time they arrived at Mark’s house, Donghyuck was agitated on top of being soaked. Taking off his shoes, he assessed the area around him. The house was quiet, but everything felt cozy. It was soft and warm, homey, perfectly clean but still comfortable. He thought back to his own tinier, messy house in contrast, thinking that even though his place felt like home, it sure as hell wasn’t as nice as this.

“Nice house,” Donghyuck commented, putting his jacket on the rack.

Mark snorted. “Thanks, man. I’ll tell my mom you think so when she gets home.”

Even though he had spent plenty of time with Mark, Donghyuck felt himself overcome with what he could only define as nerves. Never once had he felt nervous to go spend time with Mark in the art room, and yet, somehow, a change of scenery was throwing him off. He felt out of his element, almost dazed, as Mark led him to the kitchen.

“Feel free to get anything you want,” Mark called out as he placed his and Donghyuck’s backpacks by the table. Cordial host.

Walking towards the fridge, Donghyuck assessed its doors before opening it. His eyes first landed on a sticky note from Mark’s mom — I’ll be home at 6, I left money for pizza — and then immediately jumped to a picture of Mark and Jaemin at some amusement park, held up by a tiny red magnet. For a second, he stared, looking at how happy they appeared. He had to stop himself from reaching out to touch the edges of the paper. Finally, he snapped out of it, opening the fridge and grabbing soda for the two of them.

“Alright, let’s get this shit over with,” Donghyuck groaned with a grimace.

—

Studying worked. For maybe half an hour, give or take. But after that, they got distracted and — dare Donghyuck even think it — started having fun.

When the two of them were at school together, Donghyuck always had the slight nagging thought that maybe someone would walk in. Not like it would be the end of the world, depending on who it was. But that fear didn’t exist when they were within the confines of Mark’s house, and Donghyuck could laugh, practically without restraint (although he did hold back a little, just so Mark wouldn’t start thinking he was funny).

“You’re ridiculous,” Mark choked out between laughs, which were inspired by one of Donghyuck’s roasts. “Are you always this much of a smartass?”

Donghyuck held his head high, triumphant. “Have you ever seen me being anything but a smartass, Mark hyung?”

Mark laughed again, not a rare sound, idly twirling his pencil in his hand. “Good point. Nope, never.”

Donghyuck felt something undefinable at the way Mark’s eyes shined at his jokes. Based on first impressions alone, Donghyuck wouldn’t have seen Mark as the type of person to laugh at his sarcastic comments. He wouldn’t have seen him as the type of person to laugh at anything coming out of Donghyuck’s mouth. But, much to the contrary, Mark laughed at most of the things he said — real belly laughs, doubled over — even if Donghyuck suspected their senses of humor were vastly different. Even his own best friends didn’t seem to find him as funny as Mark found him, and it was starting to make him think making people laugh was potentially the most satisfying thing he’d ever done.

“Okay, but really. I have something to say,” Donghyuck said, feigning grave seriousness. He almost let out a chuckle at how flat Mark’s expression went. “I think we absolutely, positively… need to order food right now or else I’ll die.”

Mark let out a relieved gush of air, reaching out to lightly hit Donghyuck on the arm. “You scared me!”

“Please,” Donghyuck replied. “What could’ve been the worst thing I would say?”

Mark’s attention moved to the window, staring out at the sky that was still unleashing its wrath in the form of a downpour. He bit his lip, and Donghyuck felt his own cheeks heat up at the idea that Mark didn’t seem unsure how he should’ve. Instead, he seemed like he just realized that he had said too much, let on a little more than he had wanted to.

“I don’t know, I just thought it’d be bad,” he finally uttered, and Donghyuck felt like it was a little white lie.

Donghyuck didn’t want to dwell on it or what it could’ve meant. He pushed himself up from his seat instead, smiling. “Your mom left money. Let’s order.”

Dropping his jaw (which Donghyuck decided was a very unnecessary, very dramatic reaction), Mark stood up too, walking over to the counter where the money rested. “You’re a snoop,” he remarked.

“It’s not a sin to be attentive, you know.”

Mark simply chuckled, as always.

—

It didn’t happen until the pizza had been completely devoured. Until Mark’s parents had long since returned home. Until they had gotten wrapped up in watching some movie marathon on television, studying abandoned too long ago and the darkness of night settled completely into the rainy evening.

Mark’s phone rang, vibrating from its spot between them on the couch. Almost as if he wasn’t planning on picking up the call, he grabbed it lazily, eyes reluctant to move from the screen. When Mark let out a small gasp, Donghyuck looked over to him, brows furrowed.

“You good?” From the way Mark looked like he wanted to simultaneously throw the phone and start crying, Donghyuck already had arrived at an answer.

Shaking his head, he got up. “I… I gotta answer this.”

Mark walked out of the living room and into the hallway, far away enough to show that he wanted privacy but not enough to be completely out of earshot. And Donghyuck, who had no regard for anyone else’s personal business but his own (and on some days, not even his own), was shocked to find that he wanted to listen. He grabbed the remote, turning the volume down just a few notches.

Above the sound of the movie and the drizzle of the rain, he could hear Mark’s voice, quiet and unsteady. “Where are you?” was the first shaky sentence he heard, followed by a symphony of “no”s and “stop it”s and “I’m sorry”s. Donghyuck craned his neck in the general direction of where Mark had gone, a foolish attempt at trying to hear better.

“You don’t have to do this,” Mark almost pleaded. Donghyuck didn’t understand it, and he started to feel bad for the evident pain that was in Mark’s voice. He dared to begin thinking about the person on the other end of the line, whose identity he couldn’t assume but begged to point at one singular culprit.

“I know,” Mark went on. “I get it. I messed up.” He sounded weak, and Donghyuck had seen Mark weak. He had heard Mark weak. This time, it was worse.

“Are you okay?” was the next thing Donghyuck could hear, and he wasn’t sure if he had heard that part right, because how could Mark possibly be worrying about the wellbeing of a person who was clearly reducing him to a mess?

Donghyuck received a logical reply to that question when he heard Mark’s next sentence. “Jaemin, is someone taking care of you?”

Of course, it was Jaemin. Donghyuck wasn’t an idiot — he figured that Jaemin was the most probable caller, especially from the way Mark had reacted. But hearing his name made Donghyuck flush, because he felt like he had somehow walked into a situation that didn’t involve him. He felt like he had been forced into a world that wasn’t his own, and suddenly the room felt a little too small, like he had to get out.

“Okay. Understood,” Mark said quietly. Donghyuck could hear the soft pit-pat of his feet on the floor, pacing back and forth, and it brought worry to his own stomach. At that, at the feeling of nerves for Mark being on the phone with Jaemin, he knew it was all way too much for him. He knew being there was the wrong thing.

Picking up his own phone, he texted his mom, asking her to please come get him (if it hadn’t been raining, he would’ve just walked out on his own terms). He had thought he could accept whatever this acquainted state of coexistence with Mark was, almost enough to say he had enjoyed that afternoon. But suddenly, Jaemin was in the equation, and it wasn’t simply a universe that allowed Mark and Donghyuck to be separate from everyone else. Donghyuck realized that sobering thought just when he was at the precipice of being okay with this, and the weight of it made him wonder why he wanted it to be just the two of them in the first place.

At the sound of Mark saying goodbye and letting out a long, deep breath, Donghyuck relaxed back in his seat, pretending like he had been paying attention to the movie the whole time.

“Sor—,” Mark began as he walked back into the room, eyes nearly looking teary, but Donghyuck cut him off.

“My mom texted me that she wanted to pick me up now, so, uh… yeah, I’m gonna leave in a few,” Donghyuck blurted, hoping he sounded convincing.

Mark forced a soft smile on his lips, and Donghyuck could tell it was fake. He wished he couldn’t. “Oh, alright. Well, uh, thanks for coming over… I know we hardly studied but it really helped,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“No need to thank me,” Donghyuck said, and his eyes stayed on the screen. He didn’t want to see Mark looking so helpless anymore.

—

Mark knew he should’ve been thankful for Donghyuck’s perfectly timed departure. He was on the verge of crying, which Donghyuck had already seen him doing once, and that certainly was not something he wanted him to see again. For the chance to be alone, to breathe, to have a bit of a breakdown without anyone else around, he should’ve been thankful.

But, sitting on the couch by himself, something was missing. Maybe he could chalk it up to feeling lonely, to feeling alone with all of his annoying problems resting on his shoulders. But when Donghyuck was with him, he didn’t think much about Jaemin. Which said a lot, because he was almost always thinking about Jaemin and the terrible situation he was currently dealing with. It constantly brewed within him, hurting his stomach, keeping him up at night.

For him, Donghyuck was like a breath of fresh air. He laughed around Donghyuck, and he could forget about all the bullshit that currently was ruining his junior year and perhaps (albeit dramatic) his whole life. But with him gone, it felt quiet. Too quiet. Not the same quiet as it had been when his brother Johnny first went away to college, but a quiet that made Mark regret letting Donghyuck’s noise into his life in the first place. A quiet that he knew existed before Donghyuck had been there, but he wouldn’t have known what he was missing if he had never experienced that noise.

Mark thought it was sad that he craved Donghyuck’s company when Donghyuck had made it clear that their friendship wasn’t even enough to be deemed a friendship. He was embarrassed of himself, and he was especially embarrassed of how badly he wanted Donghyuck to still be there.

He felt bad for himself for a moment, but not bad enough to stop torturing himself, replaying Jaemin’s drunk words over and over in his head. His brain was littered with the thought of how Jaemin spat the words at him, how they slurred together just a little but not enough for them to be incomprehensible.

“Do you realize how bad you need me yet?” Cold, calculated, surrounded by the sound of the party that was going on at Jaemin’s house. Jaemin knew that Mark knew it; Jaemin knew that Mark was hardly a speck on the radar without him. Jaemin knew that Mark couldn’t stand being so invisible.

Before he fell asleep that night, pillow slightly wet with tears, he couldn’t help but think about how secure Donghyuck seemed with invisibility. He couldn’t wrap his mind around it.

—

Donghyuck wasn’t quite sure what had come over him when he woke up the next morning and decided that he just absolutely needed to text Mark. He thought maybe it was the fact that he knew Mark needed it after Jaemin decided to wreck him with a single phone call. He realized that the actual reasoning was a lot more selfish than that.

After a short deliberation which ended in him saying “fuck it” a moment later — because Donghyuck was, of course, not the type to worry about the intricacies of a simple text message — he pressed ‘send’.

Donghyuck

Got any plans today, loser? [10:36 AM]

After his quick escape last night, he wondered why sleeping on it had suddenly changed his tune. It’s not that I want to hang out with Mark. It’s that I feel like I owe him something. That was his current narrative.

Within a few minutes, Mark gave him a reply.

Mark

[10:41 AM] None!!

[10:42 AM] But can our plans not include studying???

Donghyuck

Who said anything about us having plans huh [10:45 AM]

By the way it took Mark a few moments longer than expected to reply, Donghyuck knew he had thrown him off a bit. Somehow, he never expected Donghyuck’s sarcasm, even after it had been well established.

Mark

[10:55 AM] Not nice :(

Donghyuck let out a chuckle. Out loud. He was disgusted at himself for it.

Donghyuck

You’re too easy to mess with [10:58 AM]

Come over my house in a little [10:58 AM]

Mark

[10:59 AM] Ok sounds good :)

Donghyuck wasn’t sure how good it actually sounded, but with how content he felt, he figured it at least sounded alright.

It felt foreign to Donghyuck to open his front door and have Mark Lee standing on the porch. It was too soon, somehow, because just two days ago they were two separate beings who only saw each other at some isolated spot, and now they were stepping into each others’ spaces. Even after being at Mark’s house, it was almost like Mark didn’t fit into the grand scheme of his life properly, contrasting too heavily with the things around him. The juxtaposition, though, wasn’t exactly terrible. Donghyuck didn’t think it was terrible.

“You actually knocked instead of just texting me that you were here,” Donghyuck remarked. “How vintage of you.”

“Hey! I have manners,” Mark scoffed.

Donghyuck motioned for him to come in. “Could’ve fooled me,” he said, and at the way Mark’s face dropped, Donghyuck clarified himself. “Kidding. I’m almost always kidding, hyung.”

When Mark walked in, taking off his shoes, Donghyuck couldn’t help but notice the way Mark did just what he had done yesterday — appraised the house. Donghyuck’s house was older and smaller than Mark’s, less perfectly decorated and more eclectic. There were lots of pictures, lots of art, be it in the form of paintings or drawings Donghyuck and his little sister had made over the years. It was bright, saturated with color.

“This is… this is very you,” Mark commented happily, and because it was from Mark (who wasn’t the greatest at putting things into words), Donghyuck knew it wasn’t meant to be rude.

“Thanks, that’s the nicest compliment you could ever give to a house.”

Mark’s eyes widened in what Donghyuck could only put into words as wonder, like the comment was completely ridiculous to say and yet still not deserving of argument. He laughed, sounding like a nervous compulsion, and Donghyuck was pleased.

“What would you like to do?” Donghyuck asked after leading Mark into the living room and plopping himself down on the couch.

Mark shrugged, looking entirely unsure as he sat down. “What do you normally do?”

Now that was a loaded question, and its presence in the air made him feel vulnerable somehow. Donghyuck, as great as he found himself to be, didn’t exactly find his hobbies to be the most interesting activities in the world. “Watch stuff… Make stuff… Do stuff. I don’t know.”

Mark cracked a dazzling smile, almost seeming relieved with the answer. “Nice. Which of those three did you invite me over to do with you?”

Another loaded question, because in all honesty, Donghyuck didn’t have an intended purpose for inviting Mark over, and he still wasn’t sure why he did it in his half-asleep state. He had friends who he could’ve hung out with — he wasn’t in Mark’s predicament after all — but somehow he felt obliged to handle this for Mark, and he didn’t know what his own intention was. All he knew was that now Mark was there, and he couldn’t back out of it.

“We could watch TV… and eat… That’s all I’ve got to contribute,” he replied.

“Are we gonna make a habit out of that?” Mark asked, shoulders finally looking less tense as he leaned back into the couch.

Donghyuck thought about that for a moment — him and Mark having habits together. It wasn’t as disgusting as expected.

Mark wasn't subtle, and Donghyuck wasn’t sure if he realized that. But when Donghyuck handed the cup of ramen to Mark, he knew his eyes were glued to his hands. He gave it a moment, thinking maybe it wasn’t what he thought, giving Mark the benefit of the doubt. With the way his eyes kept finding their way back to the tips of his fingers rather than the television, Donghyuck was assured in a few short moments.

“My sister wanted to paint them last night,” Donghyuck said, his voice coming out a lot less harshly than he expected as he gazed at his nails, which were the lightest shade of sparkly pink. “What’s the problem?”

“Uh, no, nothing. There’s not a problem. Really.” Mark was bright red, and Donghyuck couldn’t help but think back to when he had commented on his makeup.

“Sure,” Donghyuck replied before slurping his own ramen.

Mark was quiet, almost completely still for the better part of a minute, and then he spoke again. “You, uh, do that a lot, don’t you? Stuff like that.”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake. Like what, Mark? Please enlighten me.”

Donghyuck didn’t know what to expect from Mark, and for some reason, unlike the last time something like this had happened, he cared. Only a little, but he cared enough to feel a knot forming in his stomach.

“I don’t— I’m not trying to be rude. I mean, stuff like… like pretty stuff,” Mark answered, and Donghyuck could tell he was absolutely swimming in the deep end, head hardly above water, scrambling for any way to stay afloat. “Makeup and stuff.”

Donghyuck looked away from him, attention on the television as he ate. After a big gulp of food, he replied. “My sister did the nails, not me. But yeah, I use my mom’s makeup sometimes.” When Mark didn’t reply, he turned to him. “What’s the problem?” he repeated.

“Nothing’s the problem, Donghyuck,” Mark said, somehow composed again. “I was just curious. I like it.”

Flustered, be it at the first compliment Mark had ever given him or the fact that he was being confronted about what he saw as his forms of expression, he shook his head. “Yeah, I like it too. That’s why I do it.” Part of him enjoyed this, scowling at Mark and giving him biting comments. It’s what he had been good at from day one.

“So you won’t ask,” Mark said tentatively a few moments later, slurping up some food. Before Donghyuck had a chance to say what he’s said a billion times about other people’s business being none of his business, Mark continued. “No, I don’t want to bicker. Just… if you’re not gonna ask, can I tell you about it?”

Donghyuck had never been the person who people wanted to confide in about their problems, so he figured Mark was desperate in order to attempt to do that. “Go ahead.”

Mark took a deep breath. “Jaemin was the one who called me last night.”

“Really?” Donghyuck said, and it certainly was apparent that he already knew.

“Yup. Just thought I’d state the obvious,” Mark muttered. “Listen, I’m not trying to bring down the mood… I just feel like I’m gonna scream if I don’t talk about this.”

Donghyuck knew at this moment he was a last resort for Mark, a desperate option that he needed just because he had no one else. Somehow, he was fine with that. He was fine with being an option at all. “Then talk about it, Mark hyung.”

“It feels weird… like, talking to you about this,” Mark giggled.

Donghyuck smiled, even though he didn’t want to. “It’s not exactly my favorite pastime either, man. Just tell me what happened.”

“Okay. Okay,” he said, letting out a breath. “You know he had another party last night?”

“I may have heard something like that,” Donghyuck replied through a mouthful of food.

“Yeah, it’s kinda hard not to hear about it,” Mark replied, a soft air of distaste in his voice. “Anyway, he was drunk when he called.”

“Oh, fucking hell,” Donghyuck said under his breath.

Mark laughed, and Donghyuck couldn’t tell if it was from nerves or because he genuinely found the comment funny. “I know, right. He started… saying such shitty things to me. I don’t know what the purpose of talking about this is, but I just had to express how terrible it was. It’s like he doesn't want me to be happy unless I’m with him, but he doesn’t want me to be with him either.”

“Do you want him to be happy?” Donghyuck blurted.

Mark’s eyes widened, and he looked to the floor. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I want that?”

“You said it yourself. One: he said shitty stuff to you. Two: he doesn’t want you to be happy,” Donghyuck argued. He could feel annoyance bubbling within him.

Mark shook his head. “I can’t… just wish bad things upon him. I wouldn’t do that.”

Donghyuck couldn’t understand it, no matter how hard he tried. He would’ve said to hell with Jaemin if he was in Mark’s shoes.

“That’s because you’re a better person than him,” Donghyuck said, shaking his head. “He makes you look bad. I really thought you were an asshole because of him.”

The smile on Mark’s face grew. “So you don’t think I’m an asshole anymore?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

“You’re the one who said it.”

Donghyuck didn’t like to lie, so he couldn’t deny that.

—

It wasn’t that Donghyuck was nervous to see Mark on Monday. It absolutely could not have been that, despite the undeniable fact that something was making him nervous. He thought maybe he felt nervous on Mark’s behalf, since Mark was most likely nervous to even see Jaemin at any point throughout the day. That had to be the cause, he knew it.

And what the fuck did he have to be nervous about involving Mark anyway? But that question was hard to define. Because, although he refused to admit it to himself, he had a nice time on Saturday just sitting around with Mark, and they may have texted a little afterwards too, which Donghyuck didn’t mind in the way he originally did when Mark had first insisted they exchange numbers a few days prior. That in itself, the fact that he wasn’t in complete hatred of getting to know Mark, made him nervous.

He thought maybe this was (he wanted to vomit at this concept) a new friendship, and it had been a long time since he made a new friend. Donghyuck decided that’s what this was. New friend nerves. He didn’t like them.

“I never thought I’d say this, but please spend time with us again,” Renjun said at their lockers before lunch. “My life feels way too Donghyuckless. It’s less enjoyable than you’d think.”

Donghyuck had to admit, he was being more distant from his friends than usual. He didn’t want to admit the reason. “I can only imagine how painful that must be,” he replied dramatically, clutching at his own chest.

“Really, man. As much as I love quality time with this one,” Jeno said, ruffling Renjun’s fading orange hair, “I could use a little more of you.”

Donghyuck sighed. “I know, I’m sorry. Tomorrow, lunch.”

And that said a lot, because Donghyuck didn’t apologize for much ever.

“Bad news, man,” Donghyuck chimed as he walked to their usual table, where Mark was already sitting. “I told my friends I’d stop going ghost on them tomorrow.”

Mark looked up at him, a smile on his face that was perhaps covering a nearly undetectable hint of disappointment. “Wow, I scared you away that bad?” He laughed, letting Donghyuck know he was joking.

“Yup. Way too much emotional baggage.”

Donghyuck felt guilty, imagining Mark sitting in the room alone tomorrow and perhaps for the next few days after that as well. He knew it was foolish — Donghyuck had spent plenty of time with him, and a little time by himself wouldn’t be the end of the world. Still, it felt wrong.

But he knew he couldn’t offer for Mark to join him either, although that was the seemingly correct, polite thing to do. Mark would undoubtedly reject the idea, and truthfully Donghyuck wasn’t crazy about it either. He wasn’t crazy about how much explaining he’d have to do to Renjun and Jeno.

“I’d offer for you to join me but…” Donghyuck trailed off.

“But,” Mark repeated. “But that’s just not how this will ever work. Right?”

Mark had a look of expectation on his face that almost hurt Donghyuck, because they both knew the answer. And as much as it shouldn’t have, that answer bothered Donghyuck.

“Right.”

—

Donghyuck thought it was nice to eat lunch with Jeno and Renjun again.

Donghyuck didn’t think it was nice that his mind kept jumping to Mark. Mark, Mark, Mark, again and again. It wasn’t necessary, he thought, to feel bad for him. He felt bad for him regardless.

But, despite the bad feelings, Tuesday was spent with his best friends. And Wednesday was too, after a little bit of internal debate. He started thinking maybe it was possible to enjoy himself without thinking about if Mark was enjoying himself too — until he checked his phone.

Mark

[12:10 PM] Today too??

It was… desperate. Donghyuck thought it was desperate, and sad, and just overall something he would never do himself because it would come across as very vulnerable and very pathetic. He was flattered nonetheless. Trying his very hardest not to smile at his phone (which shouldn’t have been as difficult as it was) so neither of his friends would call him out, he replied.

Donghyuck

Rest of the week probably [12:11 PM]

Don’t cry too much without me <3 [12:11 PM]

Mark

[12:12 PM] I’ll try my hardest!!

[12:13 PM] :) enjoy your lunch

Donghyuck put his phone away. He didn’t want to be tempted to ditch his friends more than he already was.

—

Donghyuck stuck around just long enough for his friends to stop making comments about how odd he was acting. If all it took was a few days for Renjun to stop insisting that he was hiding something, then he figured alternating between the room and the cafeteria was foolproof. After figuring that, he also figured he was losing his mind for wanting to make foolproof plans to sit with Mark anyway.

Other than incessant thoughts about Mark that would plague him at random points of the day, Donghyuck was fine, as he always was. He was sticking to his life plan pretty well. Step one, though, was easier said than done, and it was a lot easier when he wasn’t thinking about Mark every time he did an algebra problem.

Honestly, Donghyuck. Who cares if Mark is doing fine with algebra? He would tell himself, knowing damn well that he cared. Why do you care at all?

He knew that a few weeks prior, he wanted nothing to do with Mark, but now they were sending each other texts when they were apart, which was weird to him but somehow comforting. They had taken to texting each other once or twice during lunch, and then a little after school, which occasionally turned into a lot. Donghyuck thought it was most definitely stupid how much their conversations lacked substance, always silly and playful and the type of shit that made you laugh even though you knew it wasn’t funny.

He hated it, mostly because it made him happy, and he knew it had no place making him happy.

But Donghyuck truly thought no one noticed, which was naïve to surmise with hawk-eyed Renjun around.

“Donghyuck,” Renjun commented on Saturday night, the trio sitting in the theater waiting for a movie to start. “No offense, but you’re with us, so who the hell else could you be texting?”

“What?” Donghyuck was caught off-guard by the observation. “I’m not… I’m just on my phone.”

“You’ve been on your phone a lot,” Renjun pointed out. Jeno simply watched the exchange in curiosity.

Donghyuck shook his head. “I’m always on my phone a lot. Welcome to the 21st century.”

Renjun turned to Jeno. “Do you buy that?”

Jeno shrugged. “What could he possibly have to hide from us?”

“Nothing,” Donghyuck interjected. “I have nothing worth hiding.” It wasn’t entirely false.

Renjun let out an exasperated sigh. He hated when Jeno of all people disagreed with him, especially because usually the challenger of the group was Donghyuck.

“Fine,” Renjun pouted.

“Stop constantly accusing me of shit,” Donghyuck said with a laugh.

Renjun simply huffed again, and Jeno giggled. In a way it was a victory for Donghyuck; at least it was an upgrade from “odd.”

—

Donghyuck liked himself long before Mark Lee given him his almighty stamp of approval. He thought it took a certain level of confidence to do what he did, to show up to school wearing his mother’s blouses and cheap eyeliner, and that was confidence he most certainly possessed. That was the confidence that allowed him not to care about what others thought. But he thought it was funny how he started caring about Mark, and suddenly Mark’s voice was replacing his own. Which was ironic, considering Mark had indirectly made him cry about his own self-image not too long ago.

But now, looking in the mirror, he remembered Mark saying how he liked it. The “pretty things” that Donghyuck did.

That wasn’t right, Donghyuck thought. Because he certainly valued his own opinion over Mark’s, and yet Mark’s vague encouragement made him feel something good, really good. He looked at his reflection in the dirty mirror — chocolate hair, dark brown eyeliner lightly smudged, a bright coral shirt paired with an old ass pair of jeans, the nail polish that had begun chipping — and he liked it, as usual.

What was new, though, was the idea that maybe Mark liked it, liked Donghyuck and his “pretty” habits. Not that it mattered. Mark isn’t even your friend. Not really. But he was, and he had been since the chocolate bar incident which he swore would bear no impact on the way he saw Mark — but it did, and that wasn’t according to plan.

“Lee Donghyuck, bring that eyeliner back in here!” he heard his mom yelling from downstairs, breaking his train of thought. She was always frazzled before work, especially when Donghyuck ruined her morning routine, but he smiled anyway, heading downstairs to set off for school.

“Murder me, please,” Mark said the moment Donghyuck walked in the room. “Well, wait, don’t. I don’t trust you not to take that request literally.”

“Shouldn’t you be thankful that I’ve made my return?” Donghyuck answered, quirking a brow.

Mark looked like he wanted to speak, but the air was trapped in his throat. He let out a tiny chuckle after a moment. “Of course.”

Donghyuck sat down, folding his hands on the table in front of him. “Please, please, please, tell me this murder request has nothing to do with he who shall not be named.”

“Who?” If nothing else, Mark was oblivious.

“Rhymes with Cha Taemin.”

Mark shook his head. “Oh. Nope, not that.” Donghyuck signaled him to go on, humming thoughtfully. “It’s even worse. Algebra.”

“Well,” Donghyuck replied, “I’m here for you to use me for my algebra expertise.”

“Hey!” Mark protested. “I’m not using you! We’re, well…”

“Friends,” Donghyuck blurted before he even had a chance to think about whether or not that was the appropriate thing for him to respond with. But he had woken up in a good mood, and none of the dumbasses at school had ruined that good mood yet, so the high of happiness was making him be a little nicer than he’d usually be.

“We’re what?”

“Friends. We’re friends,” Donghyuck mumbled begrudgingly, and he swore he felt his cheeks glowing bright red.

“Say it louder. I couldn’t hear you.” Mark, shameless as always in his extravagant reactions, was smiling from ear to ear. Donghyuck wished to hate him for wanting to hear it again, but Donghyuck knew he would’ve done the same.

“Ugh,” he groaned. “Don’t have a cow. We’re friends.”

Mark was glowing. Warm brown eyes sparkling, turned up in a smile, bridge of his nose scrunched, apples of his cheeks faintly pink. Donghyuck thought it was stupid for him to be so happy to be friends with him, because no one in the world ever seemed that happy to be friends with him before (not that Jeno and Renjun were unappreciative of him, just that they weren’t absolutely losing their shit over his companionship).

But Mark looked ecstatic, and Donghyuck knew it was probably because at this moment he had no one else, except for his brother and his little shit of a neighbor Jisung, but Donghyuck appreciated the sentiment anyway. Maybe it was the good mood, but for the first time, Donghyuck thought Mark was being cute. That his reaction was cute, and endearing at that. He shook his head, like that physical motion would somehow remove the thought from his head — and it didn’t.

“Well, friend,” Mark said, touching Donghyuck’s hand. Donghyuck nearly flinched at the contact. Mark didn’t seem like one for physical contact or affection or anything in that ballpark. “Please come over and help me study tonight. Please.”

“Tonight?” Donghyuck asked, his voice coming out squeakier than expected.

“I know, it’s short notice. But the test is tomorrow,” Mark said, eyes pleading.

Donghyuck bit his lip, suddenly unsure. “I usually study for tests by myself…”

“Hyuck,” Mark replied. Donghyuck felt nervous at the nickname, and at how cute Mark was being. He didn’t know if he was trying to be cute for his own gain or not. “I’ll pay you.”

Donghyuck laughed, clear and bright. “Friends don’t pay friends to study with them.”

“So you’ll study with me for free?”

“Something like that, yeah,” Donghyuck said, feeling like it wasn’t exactly ‘for free.’ He wasn’t sure why he felt that way, but he did.

—

They really studied this time. Not like last time, mostly because Mark was stressed out of his mind, and truthfully, Donghyuck needed the study time too. It went on for about as long as it could, until Mark had reached full capacity and decided to call it quits.

“My actual brain hurts, man,” he complained, leaning back in his chair and squeezing his eyes shut. “I’ve got formulas tattooed to the insides of my eyelids at this point.”

“I think that might be considered cheating,” Donghyuck said with a smirk.

Mark laughed at the comment. “You think you’re ready though?” Donghyuck asked.

“Nope, I doubt I’ll ever think that. But, uh, I’m as close as I’ll ever be.”

Donghyuck hummed, starting to pack his things. “The magic of Lee Donghyuck. I can turn even the most awful algebra students into almost ready test takers.”

“Is that magic or charity work?” Mark said with one of his big smiles plastered on his face.

“Depends on how good you do,” Donghyuck said, playfully hitting Mark’s head. “If you do bad, I don’t claim you.”

“And if I do well?” Mark daunted, and the way his cheeks turned red hinted that it sounded to him just as flirtatious as it sounded to Donghyuck.

Donghyuck shook his head, playing it off. “If you do well, then I’m taking full credit.”

Personally, Donghyuck thought Mark would do just fine, as long as he didn’t get into his own head. Donghyuck also thought that Mark thought too much, because there was no way someone as smart and conscientious as him could be doing that poorly in algebra. He was just clearly a bad test taker, which Donghyuck felt awful about. (He wondered when the fuck he’d stop feeling bad for any minor inconveniences Mark faced.)

Sitting in class waiting for the tests to be distributed, Donghyuck wanted to turn around and wish Mark good luck, which was strange. He hadn’t really felt that way about anyone before, because frankly, it wasn’t his business whether other people did well or felt comforted or anything like that. But the lines between his business and Mark’s business were getting blurry, for some God forsaken reason which he despised.

But despising it didn’t make it go away. He turned around as he handed the test to the girl behind him, allowing his eyes to roam to Mark in the back row. At the sight of Mark’s eyes already on him, he felt his stomach churn just a little. He looked lost as he bit at a nail, and Donghyuck could see nerves written all over his face.

He despised how he imagined pulling his hand away, telling him that biting his nails was a bad habit that just left your fingers spitty and gross, assuring him that he’d do fine. Despising the thought didn’t make it go away either. All he could do was give him a fleeting smirk and a nod of his head, and with the way Mark’s hand dropped from his lips, he figured the gesture was enough to remedy him just a little bit.

—

93. That was what greeted Donghyuck in plain, red ink when the tests were passed back a few days later. And just like before the test, he wished with all his might that he could’ve turned and talked to Mark about it. He stayed facing forward, pulling out his phone and trying as inconspicuously as possible to text without Mr. Park seeing.

Donghyuck

It better be good news [1:25 PM]

Donghyuck felt nervous for him, yet again, which remained so out of character that it nearly pained him. He received his answer a moment later, quelling the nerves.

Mark

[1:26 PM] 85!!!!!!!!!

[1:26 PM] YOURE A MIRACLE WORKER

[1:26 PM] FULL CREDIT TO YOU

The excitement was enough to make Donghyuck’s cheeks ache as he stifled a smile. Mark was so unapologetic about his excitement, never behind a façade, always at full force. Donghyuck wondered how he had managed to keep that hidden from the general population.

Donghyuck

I guess I can claim you after all [1:27 PM]

Happy for you :) [1:27 PM]

Mark

[1:28 PM] And what’d you get, genius

Donghyuck didn’t want to smile, especially because that’d make the fact that he was texting even more obvious. It was a challenge.

Donghyuck

93 [1:28 PM]

Sorry to steal ur thunder [1:28 PM]

Mark

[1:29 PM] Happier for you then!!!!

[1:29 PM] Let’s celebrate this weekend, I’ll buy ice cream

There were two things that Donghyuck loved. One: the fact that Mark was somehow, although self-proclaimed, “happier” for Donghyuck’s usual good grade than his own rare one. Two: the fact that Mark made plans with him.

There were two things that Donghyuck hated. Repeat the aforementioned one and two.

—

November weather wasn’t exactly conducive to ice cream dates. Not that this was a date in the slightest, but you know, for lack of a better term.

“Ice cream is good for your soul all year round.” That’s what Mark had claimed when Donghyuck showed up to his house donning a jacket and a beanie and complaining Mark's ears off about how much he wanted something warm instead of ice cream.

“Hypothermia is never good, Mark,” was Donghyuck’s snarky reply, but Mark just chuckled and insisted that it would be fine, even despite the fact that they had to walk there (“It’s only a five minute walk… okay. Maybe 10.”)

Donghyuck was grouchy about it, complaining the whole way there, and Mark seemed to pay the pessimism no mind, explaining how this was his absolute favorite place to go, especially because it wasn’t seasonal.

“There’s no way they do good business all year round,” Donghyuck protested, shoving his hands in his pockets. If he had been forced to tell the truth, he would’ve admitted that it wasn’t as cold as he was letting on, but he wasn’t being forced to tell the truth, so dramatics were necessary. But it was a nice autumn day, not a cloud in the crisp, blue sky, and truthfully, Donghyuck thought it was verging on perfect. Just a few degrees warmer, and there wouldn’t be a single problem.

“They sell stuff other than ice cream, Donghyuck. But what’s the point in that when ice cream is an option?” He had a valid argument.

Upon arrival, Donghyuck was almost amazed to find out that this was the spot that Mark deemed as his “favorite place.” For starters, it was pink — from the exterior to the decorations inside, it was pink. Donghyuck wasn’t one for gender roles or stereotypes — hell, he broke them on most days — but Mark was Mark. Nothing about him seemed to scream frills and sparkles. But that’s what this place was. It was whimsical and sweet and cutely decorated through and through, and although Donghyuck was partial to things less excessive and cheery than this place was, he found himself to be charmed by its aesthetic. Even the workers wore cute pastel aprons.

From what Donghyuck absorbed through his maximum of 10 seconds in the building, it was nice.

“Oh no.” That was the first thing that escaped Mark’s mouth once they had gotten inside.

“Go.” That was the second thing that escaped Mark’s mouth about a millisecond later as he reopened the doors and pushed Donghyuck outside, following him out. Mark grabbed his arm, pulling him away from the clear glass doors and instead in front of the exterior wall.

“What the fuck?” Donghyuck snarled.

Mark tiptoed back towards the door, peeking inside for a moment. “Oh God. How much worse could my luck be?” he questioned inwardly.

“It could be my luck. Because I was dragged here in the cold and th—,” Donghyuck started to scold, before Mark cut him off.

“Jaemin’s in there,” he said with such seriousness that he might as well have been acting like there was a snake infestation inside (although, to be fair, a snake was present in one way).

Donghyuck’s hands rested on his temples. “Oh, give me a break. What’s he gonna do? Call you a mean name?”

Mark’s face contorted into a pained grimace. “I mean, probably.”

“Then I’ll call him one back, and that’ll be even worse,” Donghyuck reasoned, trying to push past Mark as the older boy continued peering inside. “You look ridiculous right now. Let me go in.”

“No!” Mark protested, holding Donghyuck off. “He’s with his older brother. And Hansol.”

“Whosol? This is bearing no significance on my life, Mark.”

Mark let out a troubled sigh. “His brother’s boyfriend.”

“Okay. As much as I wanna be informed about this big gay rivalry, I don’t care. Now I’m going in,” Donghyuck said, finally getting past Mark’s grasp.

“Well, I’m not. You can go by yourself.” He was pouting now, like a child who wasn’t getting his way, and Donghyuck had no tolerance for it.

“For being older than me, you’re acting like a baby,” Donghyuck retorted, and it was valid. “We’re both going in.”

“Do you want Jeno and Renjun to find out?” Mark blurted just as Donghyuck’s hand touched the door. Donghyuck froze, turning his gaze to Mark. The mention of his friends — who he had mentioned multiple times before but still never realized Mark had taken note of — brought him down to earth for a second, and he knew just what Mark was trying to say.

“Is that what this is? You’re afraid of people knowing we associate?”

Mark shook his head, covering his face with his hands for a moment. “No,” he said when he finally moved his hands. “I wouldn’t go in whether I was with you or not. I just… Well, don’t act like our friendship is exactly public, Donghyuck!”

Mark’s voice kept raising in pitch as he spoke, and Donghyuck could almost feel the panic himself. As much as he didn’t like it, he knew Mark was right. “Living a double life is exhausting,” Donghyuck snapped sarcastically.

“Come on, Hyuck,” Mark said, tone softening. “Jaemin would tell people. Not like it’s bad that we’re friends, or like it’s embarrassing or something… He’d just— well, he’s Jaemin. People would find out, and your friends would be curious,” he rambled. “I mean, they don’t know we hang out, right?”

Donghyuck had to surrender at that. “No,” he mumbled. “They don’t.”

With one final look inside, the pair walked down the street and found some other place where they could dine. It didn’t serve ice cream year round, and it wasn’t nearly as cute.

—

Donghyuck had trouble sleeping that night. Rolling over to see the clock greeting him with “1:13 AM”, he groaned. It had been about two hours since he had gotten in bed, and sleep was still evading him. He had tried everything — deep breathing, counting sheep, anything to clear his mind and relax him — but still he kept thinking. Thinking about whether or not he had a right to be hurt that Mark liked to keep him a secret.

He knew it hurt (which he thought was ridiculous in itself), but whether or not it should’ve was the question. Because he liked to keep Mark a secret too, as childish as it was. He had bent over backwards to make sure his friends knew not even the tiniest inkling of his friendship with Mark, so why did it bother him that Mark was doing the same? Hypocritical. That’s the definition of hypocritical.

When he heard his phone vibrating on his nightstand, he spent a few minutes debating whether or not he should sacrifice his progress towards sleep with the distraction of his phone. After tossing and turning and realizing the progress he made was minimal anyway, he grabbed it.

Mark

[1:15 AM] Sorry for ruining everything earlier, you have

every right to go back to thinking I’m a complete asshole :(

Donghyuck knew the proper emotion in this situation was annoyance. He felt relief instead. He wasn’t going to let Mark know that.

Donghyuck

Yes I know I have that right thank u very much [1:21 AM]

I will exercise that right [1:21 AM]

As if he had been waiting for it, his reply was nearly immediate.

Mark

[1:22 AM] Why are u awake???

Donghyuck

I could ask u the same thing [1:22 AM]

Mark

[1:23 AM] Guilty conscience

Before Donghyuck could reply to that, Mark began typing again.

Mark

[1:23 AM] You don’t deserve to be treated like shit

[1:23 AM] And don’t say it’s ok bc it’s not

Donghyuck

Wasn’t planning on it [1:24 AM]

Don’t beat urself up over it tho hyung [1:24 AM]

Donghyuck knew it wasn’t the nicest thing in the world to hide a friendship from other people, but he was just as guilty of it as Mark was. So maybe they both had a right to be a little hurt, but they were doing it to themselves, and it didn’t look like that would change. After all, in Donghyuck’s own ideology, it was no one’s business but their own that they were friends. It wouldn’t be a sin by his standards to keep that private.

Mark took a few extra moments to reply, but he did, eventually.

Mark

[1:28 AM] You’re a really great friend

[1:28 AM] And no I’m not just saying that because I

have no one else at the moment

Donghyuck

So sweet tell me more [1:29 AM]

Mark’s reply made Donghyuck’s stomach feel funny.

Mark

[1:30 AM] You’re nicer to me than all my old friends combined

Donghyuck

That’s sad considering I’m not very nice to u [1:30 AM]

Mark

[1:31 AM] You’re nice without realizing, Lee Donghyuck

[1:31 AM] I like being around you

The divulgence made Donghyuck feel so open, so vulnerable on Mark’s behalf, and he wasn’t sure he was ready to reciprocate sweet sentiments to Mark. He felt blush creeping onto his cheeks as he read over the messages.

Donghyuck

Ur unusual, Mark Lee [1:32 AM]

Go to sleep [1:33 AM]

Donghyuck set his phone down, feeling his mind settling for the first time all night. He fell asleep within a few minutes.

—

Donghyuck decided that leading a double life got easier the longer he did it.

Of course, the longer it wore on him, the more he wanted to say something. The more times he nearly slipped up. Sometimes, he almost told his friends about things he did with Mark, things Mark said. He was quick-witted, though, and he always avoided lapses in judgment. But it wasn’t that hard, balancing time with Mark and time with Jeno and Renjun, and he thought as long as Mark kept hiding things, it could go on forever. Mark, unquestionably, wasn’t as good at hiding things as he was, but he figured he could hold out.

Occasionally, Donghyuck wondered what the purpose in keeping secrets was. Not that it bothered him enough to perform some noble act of honesty. He figured staying friends with Mark might be worth some secrecy, like maybe he had found a hidden, unexpected gem.

Maybe you should give new friends a try more often, he thought once or twice. He’d always correct himself a moment later. But there’s only one Mark Lee.

“Do you like winter?” Mark said quietly as they sat in his kitchen one day after school, doing homework.

Donghyuck tapped his pencil against the table as he thought. He was caught off-guard by his sudden inquiry. “No, not really. I’m a summer baby.”

“I should’ve known that,” Mark noted. “You’re, like, permanently bronzed.”

“It’s called bronzer, dollface,” Donghyuck said with a smirk as he wrote. When he glanced up, Mark’s cheeks were red.

“No,” Mark stammered. “You’re tan, uh, all over. Unless you put bronzer everywhere.” His voice got softer, almost like he was talking to himself. “Although I don’t think it works that way…”

Donghyuck laughed at how easy it was to mess with Mark. “What’s your ulterior motive with the seasons, Mark Lee? Are you trying to tell me your birthday’s in the winter or something? Because you could’ve just told me straight up.”

“No! I was just curious. And I’m a summer baby too, for your information.”

“Don’t tell me you’re a fellow Gemini,” Donghyuck said, deadpan.

Mark gave him a puzzled look, scrunching his nose. “I’m not following.”

“Oh, please,” Donghyuck replied, dropping his pencil. “Don’t play dumb. You know your sign.”

“Leo… I think? August 2nd. You tell me.”

Donghyuck rolled his eyes theatrically. “Yup. Leo.” He shook his head.

“What’s wrong with that?” Mark squeaked, as if Donghyuck had just expressed that Mark committed some sort of unforgivable crime.

“Leos are quite the firecrackers, you know,” Donghyuck pointed out. “They can be a little stubborn though.”

Mark looked at him in wonder. It was more suitable for how you’d look at someone if they’d just done a crazy long division in their head or recited pi to the 100th decimal, not if they displayed some basic astrological knowledge. “How do you know that stuff?”

“Renjun never shuts up about it. Extra ass Aries,” Donghyuck said. “If you can’t beat ‘em, you might as well join ‘em.”

“Oh,” Mark replied. He stayed silent for a moment more, then went on reluctantly. “You’re a Gemini, right? That’s what you said?”

“Mhm,” Donghyuck said, a little distracted as he had started working again.

“Are we, like, uh… compatible?” Mark questioned, sounding so innocent, so genuinely curious. “As friends.”

Donghyuck was taken aback, but he didn’t show it. He let his eyes meet Mark’s. “What do you think?”

Truthfully, Donghyuck didn’t know about every pairing, but he knew enough to supply an accurate answer.

“Maybe not. Probably not, usually,” Mark admitted sheepishly.

“Wow, no faith at all. Wouldn’t you just love to know the answer?” Donghyuck taunted.

Mark squinted at him. “I could just Google it, you know.”

“Touché,” Donghyuck said. “We’re decent. We can be pretty good. Just as long as you work past the road bumps and shit.”

Mark stayed quiet for a few moments, the late afternoon sun hitting him through a window and making his brown eyes go gold. He chewed on a nail — again, making Donghyuck want to tell him to stop. But it wasn’t the time or the place for that, because Donghyuck was preoccupied by something else. Donghyuck was staring at him. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say admiring him.

I have a very pretty friend, Donghyuck thought to himself. He didn’t want the thought to be there, and he was almost shocked at its existence in his mind, but he had to say to himself that it was true. He wondered why it had never occurred to him that Mark was so pretty before, but he figured that Mark was the type of person who has a beauty that grows the more you know him.

He thought of all the best qualities of a Leo — charismatic and energetic and ambitious — and he thought maybe those things were the reason why he suddenly realized how pretty Mark was.

Mark finally spoke, snapping him out of his trance. “So it’s worth it to work past the road bumps then?”

“Yeah,” Donghyuck mused. “Yeah, Mark hyung, I think it is.”

—

“How come you never have Jeno or Renjun over when Mark’s here?” Donghyuck’s mom questioned one day after Mark had just left their house. Donghyuck had lost track of how many times they had hung out throughout the month of November, but it was enough times for his mom to notice trends in accompaniment, and that wasn’t exactly a good sign.

“Long story,” Donghyuck said, trying to sound as casual as possible while he scrolled through his phone. “They aren’t really friends.”

“So they don’t like each other?” she asked, sounding intrigued as she sat down next to him.

Donghyuck loved his mom, the only parental figure in his life after his parents split when he was five, but she had a tendency to cling onto any ounce of gossip in his life. He let out a vexed sigh.

“No, Mom. They just… don’t talk.”

“So how do you know Mark then?” she pried further. “Algebra, right? That’s what you two are always studying?”

“Yes. Algebra,” he blankly stated, giving her a look that said ‘that’s all you’re getting from me.’

“Okay, sweetie,” she said happily, pushing his hair out of his face then getting up. “He’s cute, you know.”

Donghyuck rolled his eyes and hoped that he wasn’t blushing. “Yeah, he’s… Mark. He’s whatever.” More or less lying through his teeth, whether he was aware of that or not.

“Mhm,” she hummed as she walked away, and he could tell that there were a million little remarks she could’ve made that were left unsaid.

Donghyuck thought the question was funny. Because, of course, his mom had no clue that his best friends were unaware of his friendship with Mark. But the way she asked — suggesting that the four of them could ever hang out together — kind of lingered in Donghyuck’s mind, almost like a fantasy. Almost like an alternate world that would never exist, because how in the hell would they all ever get along?

But, as he got to know Mark more, he thought maybe he was uncovering things that led that fantasy closer to reality. A fantasy that he was sure Mark would never want, but a fantasy nonetheless.

“There are about a billion things that I didn’t expect about you,” Donghyuck noted one lazy afternoon, laying on the floor of Mark’s bedroom as Mark turned on about the 20th music video in a row. “But being a Super Junior fanatic is at the top of the list, truly.” (He wondered how the fuck they had enough music videos to sustain Mark for this long anyway.)

Mark pouted at him from his spot on his bed. “It’s not that weird.”

“No, Mark hyung, it’s not weird at all,” he said with a smirk, pushing himself up. “Just pinned you as more of a Big Bang guy.”

Mark laughed, looking eased at the fact that he was evading being “weird.” “Big Bang are great, too, but I’m biased,” he said, scooting over to make room for Donghyuck on the bed.

“How cute, staying loyal to your favorite group,” Donghyuck teased, laying on his back while Mark was to the right of him, propped up on his elbows. His mind wandered to Renjun, who was absolutely in love with EXO, idly thinking that maybe the two of them would get along over their passionate love of SM groups.

“How about you?” Mark asked, eyes resting downward on Donghyuck.

“The king,” Donghyuck said happily.

Mark quirked a brow. “Excuse me?”

“I like the king of pop. Michael Jackson. Duh,” Donghyuck replied, sticking his nose up triumphantly.

Mark poked at Donghyuck’s sides, eliciting a small squeak from the younger boy. “Okay, big shot. I mean an idol group. A guilty pleasure. Come on.”

Donghyuck shook his head, trying to hold off Mark’s hands. “Nope. No guilty pleasure here.”

“You’re a liar!” Mark said, breaking free of Donghyuck’s best efforts, poking at his sides more rapidly than before. “Admit it!”

“I’m not a liar,” Donghyuck said between giggles as Mark’s pokes turned into tickles.

In an instant, Mark was looming over top of him, and Donghyuck’s eyes squeezed shut in a fit of laughter. Without even seeing it happening, Donghyuck felt Mark’s legs finding their spot around his hips, placing the older boy on top of him, and he felt like the stupid main character in every teen movie in existence with how many butterflies filled his stomach. He opened his eyes, cheeks flushed.

“Tell me,” Mark said, poking his cheeks from above. “I didn’t just geek out over music videos for an hour just for you to not tell me.”

“I never asked for that,” Donghyuck retorted.

Mark shook his head, black locks of hair falling in front of his eyes as he looked downward. “You didn’t seem to object.”

“Fine,” he groaned. “I like EXO. Only because Renjun makes me watch videos with him.”

“Renjun, huh?” Mark asked, and Donghyuck didn’t understand what it implied.

Donghyuck pulled Mark’s hands away from their spot on his cheeks, gripping them tight. “Mhm. What about him?”

“You talk about him a lot,” Mark commented, shifting back on his heels slightly as he stayed straddling Donghyuck.

Donghyuck considered that. “I have two friends other than you. There’s not much content to work with.”

“Are you into him?” Mark asked, and he looked regretful the moment he asked.

“Are you jealous?” Donghyuck replied cheerfully, not missing a beat.

Mark shook his head fervently. “Uh… No, I just thought it’s always been about my boy issues, so uh, maybe it’d be about yours for once.” Donghyuck felt a little disappointed with that explanation.

“So you think I like boys, Mark Lee?” Donghyuck said, letting go of Mark’s hands to poke his stomach, to which Mark giggled. Ticklish. Noted. Not that he knew what he’d ever need that note for.

“You’ve never talked about girls,” Mark shrugged.

Donghyuck hummed. “Observant.”

The apples of Mark’s cheeks went red, and he hesitantly peeled himself off of Donghyuck, returning his attention to the television. Donghyuck rolled over on his stomach and determined that something about the way he currently felt was certainly new to him.

—

“Remember that talk we had about not labeling things?” Donghyuck said as he ate straight from a jar of peanut butter.

“As in not labeling ourselves as gay even though we only ever talk about guys? That labeling talk?” Renjun asked, and Donghyuck nodded. “Yeah, pretty sure I remember.”

“Well, change of heart,” he said through a spoonful of peanut butter. “Definitely gay over here. Not like it comes as a shock.”

Jeno laughed, eyes turning to crescent moons. “Congrats on coming out, man.”

Renjun, on the other hand, was stunned nearly speechless. Nearly, meaning he had one moment of fleeting speechlessness, and then the floodgates opened. “Okay, why are you having these types of crises and realizations without me? Like, am I supposed to have my crises and realizations by myself then?”

“No,” Donghyuck said with a chuckle. “You still have Jeno’s non-labeling self. Right, Jeno?”

“Yup,” Jeno said, patting Renjun on the shoulder. “Just me and you feeling confused now, man.” Jeno had long since dropped the idea of Jaemin, not that it really made a difference in his affinity for boys, but now he was talking about people other than Jaemin, and that mix included both boys and girls.

Renjun pushed his hand off, eyes never leaving Donghyuck as a scowl became permanently etched on his features.

“If you keep making that face, I think it’ll get stuck that way,” Donghyuck pointed out.

“If you keep acting so odd, I think I’ll be constantly making this face regardless.” Back to odd, I see. “How did you suddenly realize that all by yourself?”

Donghyuck knew the proper answer to this question could not be “Mark Lee straddled me.” In fact, that wasn’t the answer regardless, because he certainly wasn’t feeling a gay way about Mark. Mark just helped to speed the process along.

“I saw a cute guy and realized that I never talk about girls anyway, so.” Donghyuck shrugged, eating another scoop of peanut butter. “Actually, it wasn’t a cute guy. It was a guy acting cute,” he corrected himself, mostly just for his own personal needs.

“Who?” Renjun asked, voice raising a few octaves.

Donghyuck avoided eye contact, looking into the jar. “Just some guy I saw. That’s my business.”

“There he goes again with the whole ‘my business’ thing,” Renjun said, sounding like an annoyed mother. “Fine. Suit yourself.”

“Uh, Renjun,” Jeno interrupted. “This isn’t exactly the correct coming out reaction.”

“Shut up! I don’t mind that he’s gay, I mind that he’s such a secretive little shit,” Renjun pouted.

Donghyuck laughed, and deep within himself he felt appreciative for a friend like Renjun and a friend like Jeno. Renjun pried enough to let Donghyuck know he cared, Jeno listened enough to let Donghyuck know he cared. He thought maybe he didn’t appreciate that enough before.

—

It snowed at the beginning of December, the first Saturday of the month, and Donghyuck thought back to the thunderstorm in October that he saw as a bad omen. Looking out the window that morning, he couldn’t decide whether this somewhat premature snowfall meant something good or something bad. When his phone lit up with “Mark (1),” he got his answer.

Mark

[10:05 AM] IT SNOWED

Donghyuck remembered the time Mark asked him about liking winter, and his heart felt too cozy for it to be normal. He sent a quick reply, always sarcastic, because he was Lee Donghyuck after all, and he had appearances to keep up with.

Donghyuck

Thank u Mr. Meteorologist I have eyes [10:07 AM]

Donghyuck didn’t particularly like this weather. He hated the cold, and he hated bundling up, and he hated the way snow melted and got all dirty and sloshy. He was a summer baby, and summer ran through his veins. That being established, he thought it was peculiar, with how warm and sunny Mark was, that he loved something so cold this much. Donghyuck considered the idea that, for someone like Mark, it didn’t matter what the world around him was like because he was so bright himself.

He then considered when and how he had started admiring Mark this much. Donghyuck knew less than two months prior he would’ve found Mark's love of winter nauseating. Now the nauseous feeling in his stomach was replaced with something fuzzy, and he wasn’t sure which felt worse.

His phone buzzed, pulling him from his thoughts.

Mark

[10:09 AM] Pleaseeee come over today

[10:10 AM] Be a child with me :D

Donghyuck couldn’t say no to that.

—

Mark had vastly overrated the magnitude of this first snowfall. First of all, there was hardly snow. If you walked on the grass, green would show through beneath the crunchy, white coating. Second of all, you couldn’t even pack it. It was dry and powdery — snowballs turned to dust before you could even mold them.

Regardless, Mark was happy, and Donghyuck thought that was pretty commendable considering his overhyped snow sucked and Donghyuck was his only friend. Donghyuck thought Mark was good at making the most out of things.

“It’s glorious,” Mark said, standing at the window watching a few stray flurries fall after their attempt at playing in the snow had turned into a powdery failure.

Donghyuck chuckled, rummaging through the pantry. “How old are you again?”

“Hey, shut up,” Mark whined. “Since when does snow have an age limit?”

“It doesn’t, but your 10-year-old neighbor and his playdate are the only people on the street playing in it right now.”

Mark walked over to Donghyuck, flicking his forehead after a fruitless protest from the latter. “I’ll have you know Jisung and Chenle are 15 years old, actually.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Donghyuck jeered.

But Donghyuck’s teasing didn’t seem to put a damper on Mark’s mood because he was so, so happy with the snow. Donghyuck thought weather shouldn’t make anyone that happy, but Mark was exuding joy, twinkling, sparkling, and Donghyuck thought nothing he could ever do to himself, no amount of makeup he could ever put on, would be able to surpass how much Mark was shining on that day. Mark seemed so alive at the simple presence of a few flurries.

“You know,” Mark quietly said later as he sat with a mug of hot chocolate. “The last time it snowed I was with Jaemin.”

Donghyuck grumbled. “Mark, you sound like an old man who lost his long lost love in the war.”

Donghyuck hated the mention of Jaemin. Not because he was jealous — that idea had never occurred to him. Instead, he hated the way Jaemin made Mark feel, and he didn’t want Jaemin to ruin Mark’s sparkle today.

“No! Hear me out,” Mark said. “It won’t be depressing.”

“Fine,” Donghyuck nodded. “Go on.”

Mark looked down into his mug, like it would somehow give him the willpower to say what he wanted to say. “I love the snow, and I was so afraid this whole time that when it snowed again, I wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about Jaemin and the last time it snowed, you know?”

“Seems a little fake deep over some frozen drops of water, Mark hyung.” Mark let out a little giggle in reply, and Donghyuck noted that his sparkle wasn’t diminishing because of Jaemin today, at least not yet.

“I know. Trust me, it sounds dumb saying it,” Mark admitted. “I, well… I kept worrying it’d ruin the first snowfall for me. Because I love the snow, you know, I didn’t want it to be ruined,” he started stumbling over his words, rambling.

Donghyuck gave him a soft smile. “Spit it out.”

“Well,” Mark breathed in, slow, deep. “I woke up this morning, and I saw the snow, and instead of thinking about Jaemin, I just wanted to tell you about it.” Mark rubbed the back of his neck, his nervous tick. “I just realized that,” he said with finality, subdued.

If Donghyuck had felt enamored before, he was utterly enchanted now. For the first time in a long time, Donghyuck thought back to Mark in the kitchen with Jaemin, holding him up, giving him water even when he had refused it. Donghyuck suddenly remembered, clear as day, the soft laughs from Mark, the way he had stood up for Donghyuck even against Jaemin, Jaemin who meant so painfully much to him. For the first time ever, consciously, he thought Jaemin had really lost something special. Something that he would never be able to find in someone else.

“You’re cornier than I thought,” Donghyuck chuckled.

“That was stupid, wasn’t it?” Mark asked, a pained look on his face.

Donghyuck felt so endeared at his embarrassment. “No. I’m glad that dickhead didn’t ruin the snow for you.”

Mark shook his head. “No, Donghyuck, he would’ve. Oh, please, don’t make me say it,” he groaned.

Donghyuck lifted a brow at him, and Mark was weak. Of course he would say it.

“Oh, God. Donghyuck,” he said, cheeks already bright red. “You… like, well, you saved the snow for me. That’s so silly, right? It sounded silly coming out of my mouth.”

“Mark Lee, stop ruining the moment!” Donghyuck exclaimed, unable to force a smile off of his lips. He bumped Mark, who was sitting on the other end of the couch, with his foot, making him stop avoiding eye contact. “I think I don’t hate snow so much now because of you.”

Donghyuck wasn’t lying either, now that he considered it. He thought if his memory of the snow was with Mark, then he’d always have to like it.

—

Donghyuck didn’t like winter, but he liked the holidays. He had stopped believing in Santa when he was eight, and he thought New Year’s resolutions were pointless, but Donghyuck thought the holidays were the happiest part of winter. The redeeming part, the sparkly part.

“What do you normally do over break?” Mark asked one day at lunch, about two weeks before Christmas. Donghyuck had decided that ever since that day when it snowed, Mark was shimmering from within. On this particular day, he was wearing a sweater that was just slightly too big on him and a smile that refused to fade, and Donghyuck had trouble looking away from him. That was a trend lately — Donghyuck’s eyes being stuck on Mark.

“Sleep,” Donghyuck announced with a smile.

Mark let out a frustrated sigh, as if he didn’t realize Donghyuck was simply messing with him. “No, silly. Like, on Christmas and New Year’s and stuff.”

“You go first. I can tell you’re itching to tell me,” Donghyuck said, and it was true. He could see the sparkle in Mark’s eyes, the sparkle that emerged any time the mention of winter break came up. And usually, Donghyuck wouldn’t care about other people’s plans, because — you guessed it — it was none of his business. But when it was Mark, that phrase didn’t seem to apply.

“My brother’s coming home from college,” he smiled. “Have I mentioned it’s been, like, four months since I’ve seen him?”

“Yeah, maybe once or twice.” Or about a hundred times, because Mark was always throwing his brother Johnny into conversations and saying how much he missed him and talking about how it sucked that he went to college a few hours away.

Mark laughed, casting his eyes downward, looking a little embarrassing at his overt enthusiasm. “Your turn.”

“Well,” Donghyuck started, “it’s not interesting. On Christmas, I go to my aunt’s house, and on New Year’s Eve, I go to Jeno’s house with Renjun. Every year it’s the same.” Donghyuck flashed a smile. “Not that great.”

“Hey, I think it sounds pretty great," Mark said, a sweet grin on his face, and Donghyuck believed it. “Tradition is nice.”

Donghyuck hummed as he ate, somewhat in agreement. “What are you and Johnny gonna do?”

Mark shrugged, looking out the window at the cold, blue sky. “I don’t know. We have a few favorite places we go. Oh, and a few favorite video games we’ll play.”

A comfortable, thoughtful silence filled the room. Donghyuck imagined, almost subconsciously, what Mark’s childhood must’ve been like. He had seen pictures of Johnny, and he could vaguely remember his tall frame from when he had still gone to their school, so he could get a mental image of the two of them. Play fighting, watching television, going on family vacations, smiling and laughing. Donghyuck found the thoughts to be warm, probably because he found most thoughts about Mark to be warm. He didn’t remember when that had started, that association between Mark and warmth.

“Hey,” Mark said, voice lacking strength. “If I say this, don’t think I’m clingy. Or weird.” Mark said the adjectives like they would’ve been unforgivable traits.

“I already know you, hyung,” Donghyuck replied, heart already skipping beats at the possibility of what he would say. “Not much room left for judgment.”

Mark smiled a vague trace of a smile, almost to himself, then shifted his gaze to Donghyuck. “If you have time over break, do you wanna meet Johnny?”

Donghyuck had already met Mark’s parents. He had already overstayed his welcome at Mark’s house, already eaten too much of their food and fallen asleep on their couch in the middle of the day a few times and been driven home by Mark’s dad on the nights his own mother was working late. But being asked to meet Johnny, even as an indefinite plan, felt deeper.

“Wow, pretty serious, Mark hyung,” he tempted, masking the nerves that had just overtaken his stomach. “Why? So he can experience all the great things you’ve told him about me firsthand?”

Mark’s face, as always, went red, and Donghyuck thought maybe it was an affirmation to his question. “Something like that,” he muttered. “He wants to meet you.”

Thoughts in a tizzy, Donghyuck thought about why Johnny would want that and what Mark could’ve said to him (and why he had said anything at all) and how long he had been waiting to ask. And what it possibly could’ve meant.

“But you don’t want me to meet him?” Donghyuck said playfully, almost like he was testing Mark.

“No, I want you to,” he said, picking at his nails. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want you to.”

Donghyuck could’ve messed with him more, made him sweat it out. For what purpose? He himself wasn’t even sure of that, and he avoided thinking thoughts like that anyway. Thoughts about motive, about wants and wishes and reasons. Donghyuck could’ve toyed with Mark easily, knowing most of (or maybe all of) Mark’s ticks. But his own mind was too dizzy to do that.

“Okay,” Donghyuck agreed. “I’d like to.”

—

“What would my mom want?” Jeno asked, wandering aimlessly around the store for what must’ve been the 50th time that afternoon. The trio had taken to Christmas shopping a week before Christmas, which was certainly not on the list of their brightest ideas.

“She’s your mom,” Renjun retorted from his spot on some ornate chair that was on display. Even he was over the shopping trip, which said a lot. “Just choose something pretty and move on already.”

Donghyuck normally would’ve insisted on bailing by now. He had low patience for people who took too long to do anything, especially anything that affected his day negatively. But he genuinely was enjoying Christmas shopping this year, and he genuinely was enjoying the light snowfall that was occurring outside, and he swore it had nothing to do with spending last night on Mark’s couch watching Christmas movies. He swore that was definitely not the reason.

Slowly, he accompanied Jeno, roaming the aisles. He had already bought a gift for his mom (a nice blouse to make up for all the ones that he “borrowed” from her) and for his little sister (her first set of makeup because, of course, he knew what he was talking about in that department). He didn’t know what he was looking for now, searching through the seemingly endless shelves of pretty trinkets and decorations and odd little things.

“How about this?” Jeno questioned desperately, and the two sent back their billionth “yup, that’s perfect” without even looking at what he was holding.

Jeno simply grumbled in response and kept looking, and Donghyuck wandered away, figuring his opinion wasn’t of much help to Jeno regardless. He liked this store anyway, some artsy little place tucked almost undetectably into a strip of cute shops, and he wanted to explore without Jeno’s mission in mind.

Dawdling over to the back corner of the store, quiet except for the sound of Christmas music playing overhead, Donghyuck stumbled upon a display holding shelves upon shelves of old books. He looked through them, grabbing a few and fingering through the pages, admiring the vintage look of their covers. He thought something about them was so dazzling, so impressive, from their appearance to their smell. Something was drawing him to them.

After spending a few moments there, eventually resorting to sitting on the floor in front of the shelves, he saw it — a midnight blue book reading “Secrets of Astrology” in goldenrod lettering. He held it in his hands, running his fingers over the cover, which displayed the moon and the sun and the stars and even a few constellations.

Donghyuck looked at it, the tiny night sky in front of his eyes, and all he could think of was Mark. All that could come to mind was Mark, Mark who knew next to nothing about astrology. Mark who was so deeply a Leo, Mark who had been so eager to know if his Gemini counterpart was a good match. Donghyuck thanked God that his friends weren’t around to see him smiling at some book, that they weren’t around to ask what the hell had gotten into him.

He hardly had to think about it; he had already decided that he’d buy the book for Mark. Whether or not he’d work up the nerve to give it to him for Christmas, he didn’t know, but he’d have it for him. He didn’t know why the thought of giving Mark a simple book made him nervous. He didn’t know why he felt the need to buy it for him. Hell, if anyone was supposed to come to mind when he was presented with the topic of astrology, it should’ve been Renjun. But it was Mark, through and through, from one measly conversation.

“Who’s that for?” Renjun asked from behind him as Donghyuck stood at the register, checking out. “I’ve already taught you everything you need to know about astrology, so it can’t possibly be for you.”

Donghyuck busied himself with his wallet instead of turning to face his friend. “My little cousin. My family’s doing a gift exchange, and I got her.” He was almost appalled at how fast a lie came to him. Lying had gotten a little easier since he started sneaking around with Mark.

“Oh,” Renjun responded. “You hadn’t mentioned that.”

“I don’t exactly mention every detail of my life, Renjun,” Donghyuck retorted, thanking the cashier and grabbing the bag.

The pair waited for Jeno to check out, finally having decided on some hand-painted floral tea cups, and then journeyed out of the store and onto the street that was twinkling with Christmas lights.

—

The rest of the quarter had flown by, with all the assignments and mid-terms and tutoring Mark in algebra and the work that was flooding him. When Christmas Eve finally came around, Donghyuck was thankful to be able to unwind, without any pressures bearing down on his shoulders. There was only one thing left for him to worry about, and that was Mark.

He wasn’t sure if it had been the stress of school that had induced it, but he had suddenly started thinking about Mark more than usual, worrying about Mark. About why he thought about Mark and why he felt different with Mark than he did with other people. About when they would stop hiding that they were friends — or if that would ever happen.

Donghyuck didn’t like Mark, not like that. He was convinced of that fact. He thought maybe it was the secrecy that made him feel different, or the fact that Mark was so unusual in comparison to the people he normally gravitated towards. But on Christmas Eve, when flurries started falling as he sat eating Chinese takeout with his mom and sister, all he could keep thinking was that Mark was probably so happy about it. All he could keep wishing was that Mark was there with them. He resisted every urge to text him, because that would seem lame or desperate. Not that he cared what people thought of him. Not that Mark’s opinion was more important than anyone else’s.

Still, it was Christmastime, and that meant Mark didn’t need to be on his mind. This wasn’t about him right now, in any way, but somehow, it was. Donghyuck was starting to grasp that, somehow, it was always about Mark, and it had been for awhile.

Santa wasn’t real, and Donghyuck knew that. But he remembered a time when he swore he heard sleigh bells on the roof, a time in his childhood when he believed he needed to be sleep by midnight on Christmas Eve or else Santa wouldn’t leave him his presents.

Laying in bed as he idly played around on his phone, he watched the clock tick past 12:00 AM, and he thought back to when that would’ve been a mortal sin in his book. In place of Santa skipping his house, he instead got a notification. A message from Mark.

Mark

[12:01 AM] Merry Christmas, Donghyuck!! :)

Donghyuck thought it was silly, how Mark was acting like it was New Year’s, counting down the minutes for it to be Christmas. He then wondered how many other people he had texted, if he had texted anyone else at all. He couldn’t believe it — the idea that Mark had cracked through his shell so deeply that he was now fretting over who else he was texting.

Donghyuck replied after a moment.

Donghyuck

Up past 12? Santa’s skipping ur house [12:02 AM]

:) merry Christmas, hyung [12:02 AM]

Donghyuck watched the ellipsis denoting Mark’s typing disappear and reappear a few times before he exited the app, deciding that a watched pot never boils. He opened the message as soon as he got the notification.

Mark

[12:06 AM] I miss u :(

Once again: silly. It made his stomach knot up, but it was silly.

Donghyuck

It’s been like 2 days, clingy ass [12:07 AM]

Mark

[12:08 AM] But we normally always have plans..

Donghyuck considered that. He had never thought about it before. Without anyone knowing, he and Mark had become a pair. If they weren’t eating lunch together, they had plans for the weekend or for after school, and there were never any questions about it. Suddenly, two weeks with no real plans in store was out of character for them.

It wasn’t normal for him to be like this with anyone. Not even his own best friends. He cast a gaze out his window, watching flurries fall, and he suddenly felt braver. Brave how he always felt before he cared about someone like Mark.

Donghyuck

U are an angel for caring about me [12:10 AM]

I miss u too [12:10 AM]

Mark

[12:11 AM] EXCUSE ME is this Lee Donghyuck

[12:11 AM] His phone must’ve been hacked by

someone who enjoys my company ?????

Donghyuck

U know I enjoy ur company stop fishing [12:12 AM]

That was completely true. Donghyuck enjoyed it, more than he ever could’ve imagined enjoying it.

Mark sent his reply a moment later.

Mark

[12:13 AM] :D just wanted to hear it from u

[12:14 AM] Sleep well ok??

Donghyuck

Ok I will just bc u said that [12:15 AM]

Sweet dreams Mark hyung [12:15 AM]

Donghyuck wasn't sure if it was the magic of Christmas, but he felt warm, so inexplicably warm, at the idea that Mark cared about him. He considered that maybe caring about someone so much wasn’t terrible, especially not when the caring was reciprocated in the way that Mark reciprocated it.

He fell asleep and dreamt of sleigh bells coming from the roof.

—

Most Christmases, Donghyuck had enough of his family by 2 in the afternoon, and even that was pushing it. This year, he didn’t feel so bothered by his aunts fussing over him and his cousins running around screaming. It was a white Christmas, like something in the movies, and Donghyuck thought he felt a lot less grumpy than he usually did. Even his mom had commented that he was getting over his attitude problem (although he didn’t particularly love the observation, because his attitude problem was his trademark).

He was forced into some ugly Christmas sweater — not even in the ironic way — and normally he’d be pretty pissed about the situation. But he knew his mind was in another place, on another person, and nothing else dared to tamper with his good feelings.

So when his phone rang in the middle of watching the little kids play by the tree with their toys and the screen said “Mark,” he felt like some sort of stupid Christmas wish was coming true. Especially because Mark had never called him before — they had been strict texters. Excusing himself hastily to walk to some quiet part of the house, one of the guest bedrooms, he picked up.

“If you’re calling me to say Merry Christmas, you know you already did that through text,” Donghyuck chuckled.

“Donghyuck,” Mark replied, voice sounding broken. Donghyuck could hear sniffles on the other line. “I’m sorry to do this on Christmas, I know you’re with your family right now…”

Donghyuck ran through the options, the list of things that could’ve gone wrong. As always, Na Jaemin was at the top.

“Tell me what happened, Mark hyung,” he replied, grave seriousness in his tone.

Mark was taking deep breaths on the other line, shaky breaths that he could hardly take through his tears. “Nothing even happened, I’m being… so stupid,” he cried. “You’re gonna call me an idiot.”

“Try me,” Donghyuck said softly.

Donghyuck could hear Mark blowing his nose on the other line, and somehow it was cute to him. Which made no sense whatsoever, but Donghyuck had lost control of what he found endearing about Mark.

“My whole family keeps asking me about Jaemin,” he whispered, voice shaky. “Everyone keeps asking ‘how’s that boy you’re with’ and when I tell them we broke up, they seem disappointed. Disappointed. They don’t even know what he’s like.”

“I’m sorry, Mark hyung,” Donghyuck replied, and he wished with all his heart he could stop what was happening. He knew Mark was never able to forget about it, no matter where he was. “If it makes you feel any better, everyone just keeps asking me if I’ll ever get a girlfriend.”

Mark chuckled weakly, and Donghyuck felt better that he could at least inspire a second of laughter within him. “I don’t get why families do that. And the worst part is Johnny’s ditching me on New Year’s to go to Yuta’s party, of all the parties in the world.”

“No way,” Donghyuck replied, plopping himself down on the bed. “That’s betrayal at its finest, man.”

“I know, right? He didn’t even tell me until everyone started bringing up Jaemin,” Mark said between sniffles. “He doesn’t even like Yuta that much. He doesn’t like any of his high school friends that much, he’s just going because everyone else is.”

“Surprised Jaemin’s letting this party be dubbed as Yuta’s,” Donghyuck scoffed.

Mark chuckled again. “Guess Yuta got tired of Jaemin hassling him. I don’t know. I can’t believe I cried about this, it was just… the most anyone’s mentioned Jaemin to me in awhile.”

Donghyuck had never hugged Mark in the way he wanted to at the moment, a big tight squeeze, but he thought right now, hugging Mark for a few extra moments was exactly what he wanted to do. “So you’re alone on New Year’s now?”

“Yeah,” Mark mumbled. “Home alone on New Year’s. Even my parents have plans.”

“Hm,” Donghyuck hummed, and at the moment, he wasn’t worried about the repercussions. “You desperate enough to ring in the New Year with me?”

Mark paused for an extended moment, and Donghyuck could still hear him composing himself on the other end, letting shallow breaths turn deeper and forcing tears to dry up. The silence said something of expectation, like Mark was waiting for Donghyuck to say he was kidding.

“You have plans,” Mark said matter-of-factly.

“Plans can change, right?” Donghyuck replied, once again without thinking about what this choice would mean.

Mark sniffled again. “You don’t have to feel bad for me, Hyuck. Really. I take up enough of your time anyway.”

“Stop trying to be a martyr. Jeno and Renjun can manage without me, I swear they’re in love with each other anyway.” Donghyuck rolled over on the bed, onto his side, staring out the window. He thought that was true, that Jeno and Renjun didn’t need him there anyway. Not as much as Mark needed him, at least.

“And you’re sure you’re not just doing this because you feel sorry for me?” The emptiness that was in his voice had been replaced with just the tiniest tinge of excitement, and Donghyuck knew he wouldn’t be able to take back his offer once he heard that. He knew inspiring happiness within Mark was hard for him to resist.

Donghyuck laughed breathily. “You’re talking to the guy who kicked you out of a room while you were crying. I don’t usually do things because I feel sorry.” Donghyuck almost couldn’t tell if that was too far, if that memory would upset Mark. But Mark giggled amid his sniffles, and that gave him some reassurance.

“Things changed since then, Hyuck,” he replied. “You weren’t even my friend then.”

Things really had changed, Donghyuck knew that too well.

“Yeah, well, you weren’t my friend either.”

Mark laughed, harder than before, stronger. “I would’ve been if you let me.” The words were sweet, not angry or bitter, but simply sweet, and Donghyuck thought he would die if Mark kept saying things like that to him.

“That’s not true. Stop trying to be cute,” Donghyuck replied, scrambling for any way to shut down the idea.

“I wanted to be your friend ever since we talked at the party. You were… different. You are different,” Mark admitted. “You didn’t care what Jaemin said to you, and everyone cares what Jaemin says to them. No one else walks away from a fight with Jaemin unaffected how you did.”

Again, the scene flashed through Donghyuck’s mind, the horror on Mark’s face as Donghyuck and Jaemin bickered, the way he protested when Donghyuck started to walk out. Donghyuck thought maybe his life would be different right now if he hadn’t spent 30 minutes of his Friday night at that party.

“I guess that makes us opposites,” Donghyuck replied, and he was so thankful that they were talking on the phone so Mark couldn’t see the way his cheeks were burning bright red at the sudden confession Mark had given. He wanted so badly to finish his thought. To say it. Opposites attract.

“I guess it does,” he agreed. Donghyuck could hear the smile in his voice, and he felt comforted knowing the tears had gone away. “I don’t wanna hold you up for too long. Go enjoy your Christmas.”

Donghyuck smiled to himself. “Not before you promise to enjoy yours.”

“I promise. No more crying over Jaemin,” Mark said softly.

“No more crying at all.”

“Thanks, Donghyuck,” Mark answered. “Merry Christmas.”

—

Donghyuck was no stranger to confrontations. With a personality like his, they came easily. There was once a time when he feared them, but they had become so routine that he no longer seemed to find discomfort within them.

This time, though, he had dreaded confrontation, just a little.

“Okay, I’m sorry but what the fuck?” Renjun demanded. Donghyuck looked over to Jeno, and even he had a scowl on his face. “You cancel on a tradition, and then you don’t even bother to give a good excuse?”

Donghyuck was floundering. He had gotten so good at making excuses and avoiding explanations, but that ability seemed to be crumbling at the moment. “I told you. I’m really sorry, it’s this family thing.”

“He’s being odd. You’re right, Renjun,” Jeno muttered. Donghyuck knew it was bad when Jeno was accusing him. Ever since the Jaemin conflict had subsided, Jeno and Donghyuck had been getting along perfectly. Donghyuck thought it was ironic that now this new conflict was being caused by Jaemin too.

“Of course he is. And of course I am,” Renjun retorted, running a hand through his freshly-dyed, bright red hair. Donghyuck thought it suited him for how he was acting like the devil (but Donghyuck knew he deserved it). “What are you hiding?”

Donghyuck sighed. “Nothing. We’re having a family party on New Year’s Eve this year. I didn’t find out till we were all together for Christmas, and I’m sorry. That’s all.” He thought this lie was dangerous, but he had nothing else. Coming clean about Mark was very much an impossibility, and he wasn’t sure if that was because of his own desire anymore or if it was because he knew Mark would never come clean about him.

“Can’t you just bail on them?” Renjun asked defiantly, brows furrowed. “We do this every year.” Donghyuck knew Renjun was Renjun and that he, of course, would be petty about this.

“I tried. My mom said no.” Another lie, which he wished he didn’t have to tell.

Jeno groaned. “Whatever, man. Renjun, just forget it.”

“Are you serious?” Renjun said, turning to look at him.

“This is so pointless,” Jeno shrugged. “We can’t change it now.”

“Yes, we c—,” Renjun pouted like a child.

Jeno cut him off, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Let it go. It’s not worth the annoyance,” he said, sending a frown Donghyuck’s way.

Donghyuck could feel the irritation radiating off of them, the disappointment, and he thought he shouldn’t be ditching his best friends for someone whose company he didn’t even enjoy a few short months ago. But he remembered the call from Mark, and he hoped with all his heart that being there for him would be worth it in the long run, enough for him not to feel like an entirely shitty person.

—

Mark was scared, so scared. That’s all he could think of leading up to New Year’s Eve. Being scared.

Mark was always afraid of being different, weird, out of the ordinary, and now he found himself loving time with Donghyuck. Donghyuck, the boy who people didn’t know, the boy who didn’t care about people knowing him, the boy who would be noticed for his makeup and his clothes and nothing more. He thought something about that would be considered very, very weird, and he started thinking if Donghyuck was weird, then weird wasn’t terrible.

That’s how he felt on his brave days. But some days he thought of how he could end the friendship with Donghyuck as painlessly as possible. How he could make Donghyuck end it first. He was well aware of the fact that wanting to do that was terrible, that it made him a disgusting person, but he wasn’t even sure if that was what he wanted to do or what he needed to do. He thought this thing, whatever it was, couldn’t be permanent. In the back of his mind, a voice told him to stop being a coward, because free was how he felt with Donghyuck, but it was how he felt when Donghyuck wasn’t around that made him want to be a coward.

He wished he could be the way Donghyuck was. The way he didn’t care about anyone’s expectations or opinions, the way he valued the integrity of his own thoughts and feelings above anyone else’s. And Mark felt guilty for the way Donghyuck had to keep this secret because he was certain Donghyuck would never do something like that without his own encouragement.

Still, he wasn’t guilty enough to feel ready to change the way things were.

—

Donghyuck couldn’t put his finger on what was making this day so different. He decided maybe it was the fact that he had lied and gotten in a fight with his friends over it, or maybe the fact that they were spending a holiday together, or maybe the fact that he didn’t know if Johnny would be there when he arrived. All of those things together, he thought, were adding up to make his stomach feel queasy.

He looked in the mirror, longer than usual, watching his glowing skin and smudgy eyes in the reflection, deciding if maybe that would be too much if he was going to be meeting Mark’s brother (not that it mattered, because who the fuck cared about what other people thought, right?). He wore what he would’ve worn regardless, some top with little shimmers that caught the light and a bunch of jewelry that his mom had deemed cheap enough for him to be allowed to wear, and he decided that if it was too flashy, then he truly didn’t care. He wouldn’t let himself care.

At the sound of his mother screaming from downstairs that he needed to get his ass in the car, he threw a look at the tiny shopping bag on his desk, containing the book he had gotten for Mark. The undecided gift that would be for some occasion that he wasn’t sure of just yet. He concluded it would be best for another time, a time when he wasn’t already feeling unnecessarily nervous, and with that, he decided to head downstairs before he had to deal with more people being angry at him than he could possibly handle.

Mark and Donghyuck had taken to not texting each other when they arrived at each other’s houses ever since the first time Mark had come to Donghyuck’s. Sometimes, that worked to a disadvantage.

Standing on the doorstep, bracing himself against the cold wind, Donghyuck knocked. A few seconds later, he was greeted by Johnny.

“Oh, hey, little man,” Johnny said, a devious smile growing on his face. Donghyuck looked up at him. He was tall, with long legs and flowy, chestnut-colored hair framing cat-like eyes, and Donghyuck was more intimidated than he wanted to admit. “You here to see Mark?”

Donghyuck could tell his face screamed doe-eyed Bambi, completely dazed, and he told himself he better get it together because this was not the type of person he was. Mustering up all his courage, he spoke. “Well, I’m not here to see you.” His voice was shaking just a trace, and Donghyuck hoped it wasn’t noticeable to anyone but himself.

Johnny lifted his brows, a disbelieving look forming on his face. “So this is the Donghyuck I’ve heard about,” he smiled. “He told me you’d give me a run for my money when it came to being a little shit.”

Donghyuck grinned, suddenly feeling a lot more comforted knowing these were the types of things Mark was divulging about him. “Yeah, that’s me. Pleasure to meet you, hyung.”

Johnny glanced over his shoulder, making sure Mark wasn’t around as he ushered Donghyuck inside. “He talks about you way too much. And I know you guys are doing your whole secret thing, but you really should consider not doing that.”

Taken aback at the sudden advice and the fact that Mark apparently talks about him “too much,” Donghyuck struggled to find his words. “I… we… it’s not a big deal.”

“No, but you two shouldn’t care so much about what people think,” Johnny reasoned. And Donghyuck considered that, factored in the idea that he was the self-proclaimed king of not giving a fuck about anyone else’s opinions, and wondered if he actually deserved that title if he wasn’t willing to be his authentic self due to a simple friendship.

“I don’t… I don’t care about that,” Donghyuck stammered.

Before Johnny could answer, Mark walked in from the other room, a smile forming on his features. “Hey! Johnny hyung, you better not have said anything bad about me!”

Johnny grinned, mischief in his eyes as he ruffled Mark’s hair despite some protests from the younger. “Nah, don’t worry. I’m sure he knows how embarrassing you are already.”

Donghyuck laughed, knowing that was definitely true.

“Anyway,” Johnny went on, grabbing a coat off the rack by the door, “I was just heading out. Don’t do anything too crazy, kids.”

“Please don’t talk to Jaemin. And don’t talk about me in any way, shape, or form, please,” Mark warned, concern in his eyes.

Johnny shook his head. “I’m going to a party, you’re gonna be the last thing on my mind, dumbass. Bye, children,” he said with a chuckle, opening the door and leaving.

“Just me and you now, Mark Lee,” Donghyuck said, trying to ward off the words Johnny had said to him that stayed swirling through his head.

“I got my brother to buy us champagne,” Mark announced. “Is that weird?”

Donghyuck always thought it was ridiculous how Mark was concerned about being weird, even when the things he did didn’t warrant the word at all.

“No, it’s New Year’s Eve. Isn’t that kinda the stereotypical way to celebrate?”

Mark shrugged, looking moderately embarrassed. “Yeah, I mean, it’s just us, though.”

Donghyuck smiled, getting closer to Mark, poking his stomach. “So I’m not even worthy of some cheap champagne?”

Mark shook his head, a smile that made his eyes crinkle forming as he reached out, pinching one of Donghyuck’s cheeks. “If that was the case, I wouldn’t have told him to buy it, silly.”

“Breaking laws for me?” Donghyuck said with a dramatic gasp. “Underage drinking? Despicable, Mark Lee.” Donghyuck wished he could reach out, hold onto Mark by the waist and have that contact not be completely questionable. Something about the holiday was making him want contact with Mark more than usual.

“Shut up,” Mark replied. “We technically met for the first time at a party.”

Donghyuck giggled, abandoning Mark to go in the kitchen and appraise the copious amounts of food Mark’s mom had insisted on making. “Is that the story we’ll tell when people ask how we met?” he called out behind himself.

The quiet laughter told Donghyuck he had flustered Mark, and that was just fine by him. “Who’s asking?” Mark said after a moment, following Donghyuck to where he was standing, eating a piece of chicken.

Donghyuck knew no one was asking how they met, and if things kept going in the direction they were going, no one would ever ask because no one would ever know. But it was about to be a new year, and Donghyuck thought resolutions were pointless, but he also felt hopeful. Change was part of a new year, and he wanted to dream of a time when he and Mark weren’t star-crossed friends. Yes, only friends.

“Hypothetically speaking,” Donghyuck chimed impishly.

Mark's face quirked into an unreadable expression before he smiled again. “Yeah, I guess we’d say that. At my ex’s party.”

“See? Jaemin doesn’t exclusively cause terrible things,” Donghyuck joked, poking at Mark’s stomach again, and Mark beamed at him.

Mark was a lot dorkier than he let on. Well, dorkier than he let on to everyone in the world except Donghyuck.

Not only had he gotten champagne, but he had all the stupid New Year’s party favors that Party City had to offer — hats and sunglasses and party horns and tacky necklaces — and Donghyuck thought there was probably no one in the world as enthusiastic as Mark. No one better to celebrate with.

“I felt bad for ruining your plans,” Mark said when he showed Donghyuck all the things he bought. “I figured maybe some shiny things could somehow make bailing on them for me more worth it.”

Donghyuck chuckled, putting on one of the hats. “How do I look? Amazing, right?”

“Needs more,” Mark said with a laugh as he put one of the necklaces around Donghyuck’s neck. “There. You gotta accessorize.”

“Oh? Accessorize?” Donghyuck said, raising a brow. “Are my fashionable ways rubbing off on you?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Mark shrugged, looking at Donghyuck bashfully as he itched at the nape of his neck. “You look pretty, Donghyuck. Prettier than usual,” he suddenly said, as if he had been holding it in.

Donghyuck looked back at him, almost in amazement, watching the stars in his copper brown eyes, watching pink flowers bloom on his cheeks and watching tiny eyelashes gracing his skin as he looked down at his hands. Mark is just a friend, Mark is just a friend. He willed himself to think that, to believe that, to live that, but Mark made it so difficult when he said those things. Things that Donghyuck could tell he had worked up the nerve to say, things that made blush creep onto Mark’s face and up to his ears as he spoke them. Things that made Donghyuck’s heart grow three sizes every single time.

“Is it the new highlight I’m wearing?” Donghyuck squeaked out, quieter than he had intended.

“Shut up, Donghyuck,” Mark groaned softly. “No, it’s just you.”

Donghyuck wasn’t used to attention like that. Hardly ever was he the object of anyone’s affection or compliments, and although Mark was timid with things like that, the occasional sweet words he spoke were so special, demanding to be savored, and Donghyuck relished in every last lovely word Mark said to him. But it was so new to him, and it was so hard for him to resist masking his satisfaction with sarcasm and witty remarks, but for once, Donghyuck told himself to tear that pretense away.

“I like being around you, you know,” Donghyuck said, this time hardly above a whisper, and even as the words were on his lips, he was afraid they shouldn’t have been spoken.

Mark reached out, letting his fingers find their way to Donghyuck’s cheek, brushing the hair out of his face. Donghyuck swore he felt him trembling a little bit. “I like being around you too. But you didn’t have to ditch your friends for me,” he mumbled.

“You’re my friend too,” Donghyuck managed to say, trying to keep himself afloat despite feeling electrified by Mark’s touch. “Don’t start thinking I’m doing some sort of noble favor for you.” Mark smirked at that, a soft laugh escaping his mouth.

“Well, thank you. For… everything, really,” Mark replied. “I just feel like a burden on you, that’s all.”

Donghyuck shook his head, and without even thinking, his arms found his way around Mark, pulling him into a tight hug like he had wished to do a few days beforehand. He felt Mark’s body relax against his, Mark nestling his head into his shoulder as his hand rubbed against Mark’s back. “Don’t say that. You’re not a burden.”

Mark nodded his head against Donghyuck’s shoulder. “Okay,” he replied, words muffled into Donghyuck’s shirt. “I believe you.”

As the countdown began a minute before midnight, the two boys hyper on soda like small children who would crash before they even had a chance to realize how tired they were, Donghyuck felt a pure happiness unlike much of the happiness he had felt before. A lot of times, he felt happy with a time limit or happy with restraint, but at this particular moment, he couldn’t see an end to the feeling in sight.

With party horns in hand, smiling in the living room of Mark’s house with eyes glued to the countdown to television, Donghyuck didn’t let a single negative thought fill his mind, taint his joy.

“Five… four…” they counted together, louder and louder as time ticked down. “Three… two…”

Donghyuck thought maybe this year could be something different, and it contrasted past years when he swore everything would be the same. He welcomed the feeling of possibility for once.

“One! Happy New Year!” they yelled, screaming happily and blowing on the horns, jumping up and down. Donghyuck let go of his usual reserve and allowed himself to feel everything completely, at full strength. He registered Mark’s hand grabbing his own amidst the celebrating.

“Happy New Year, Hyuck,” he said, grinning as wide as ever.

Donghyuck squeezed his hand. “Happy New Year to you too, Mark hyung.”

But the soda crash happened faster than expected, hardly half an hour after the champagne had been popped and they had each managed to drink a glass.

“I’m tired,” Mark grumbled, resting his head against Donghyuck’s shoulder as he slouched down on the couch.

“It’s not even 1 yet,” Donghyuck said with a yawn. “I thought I had made friends with a party boy. How lame, hyung.”

“Hey,” Mark argued, looking up at him. “You look like you’re ready to fall asleep yourself.”

After 15 minutes of grumbling and groaning about being too lazy to get up and walk the flight of stairs to Mark’s bedroom, the two begrudgingly made their way upstairs, drowsy and nearly dazed, and changed into pajamas.

“Okay, throw me a pillow. I need to sleep immediately,” Donghyuck said, plopping himself down on the floor as he looked over to Mark on the bed.

“Donghyuck,” Mark said. “You can sleep in the bed with me.”

They had sleepovers a few other times, each one resulting in someone on the bed and someone on the floor. Or maybe someone on a couch and someone else on another couch, or someone on a couch and someone in a sleeping bag. Neither of them had ever suggested sleeping in the same space, even though Donghyuck had certainly considered that idea a few odd times.

At Donghyuck’s silence, which was longer than he had realized, Mark spoke again. “I mean, if you want. It doesn’t bother me, but if it makes you uncom—,” he started to ramble until Donghyuck cut him off.

“Okay,” he giggled, pushing himself off the floor. “It doesn’t make me uncomfortable.”

Mark turned off the lamp by his bed, letting darkness fill the room barring the streetlight outside and the moon shining through the window, and laid down, leaving a space for Donghyuck. Nearly with reluctance, Donghyuck laid down next to him, slipping under the covers and immediately feeling a warmth enveloping his entire being. For a moment, the room was swirling with silence, comfortable and cozy.

“Hey,” Mark said quietly, rolling over to face Donghyuck. “I forgot to ask. What’s your New Year’s resolution?”

“I don’t believe in them, hyung,” he said with a chuckle. “Why should you wait for a new year to change something about yourself?”

Mark frowned, and it was even visible to Donghyuck through the darkness. “Some people just need a reason to change.”

“Fine,” Donghyuck teased through a yawn. “Then tell me yours.”

Mark shifted his position, nestling into the covers a little bit more and closing his eyes. “I want to be more sure of myself.”

“That’s a good one.”

Mark hummed in agreement. “Come up with one, Hyuckie.”

His voice was oozing with fatigue, soft and slow, high points of his face illuminated by the glow of the moon, and in Donghyuck’s own tired state, he thought he looked like a sweet angel. Under any other circumstances, he would’ve said resolutions were stupid, rolled over, and went to sleep, but he decided to humor Mark.

“I don’t know,” he said thoughtfully, considering the things about himself that needed improvement. All that kept coming to mind were the secrets, the lies, all about Mark. After deliberating, he spoke quietly. “I want to be… more open.”

“Hm,” Mark mumbled sleepily, curling up closer to Donghyuck. “I like that a lot.”

Donghyuck let himself get closer, pulling the blankets up to their chins and shutting his own eyes. “Me too, hyung.”

Before drifting to sleep, Mark spoke again, words far apart as he slipped further away. “I wish it was always like this,” he whispered so quietly, like he almost wanted it to be a secret from himself. “You’re the only person I feel safe with.”

Donghyuck ached at the words, at the honesty, at the raw, unfiltered confession. “Me too, hyung,” Donghyuck repeated, although he knew he didn’t have to by the way Mark’s breathing fell into a steady, soft rhythm.

He had to wait for his heart to settle down until he could finally drift to sleep himself.

—

Donghyuck wasn't a sad person, but when he couldn’t stop smiling on New Year’s Day, he thought maybe that was a sign that he was really losing it. Because it definitely wasn’t a sign that he felt something for Mark. Definitely not. But he thought maybe the fact that he woke up and discovered that he had started holding Mark in his sleep was a little out of the ordinary.

Truthfully, a little (or big) piece of his heart didn’t want to leave, but he wasn’t going to resist when Mark’s mom had so lovingly insisted on giving him a ride home, and he especially didn’t want to overstay his welcome when he knew Johnny would be home soon and Mark would want to spend time with him.

“Thanks, Hyuck," Mark said from the front seat, turning around to look at Donghyuck as they pulled up outside his house. “I had so much fun. So really, thanks for coming over.”

Donghyuck's heart lurched, and he got out of the car throwing a flurry you’re welcomes to Mark and thank yous to Mrs. Lee as he grabbed his backpack full of his clothes. He was grateful for the quick escape because he really didn’t want to be blushing from Mark’s kindness in front of Mark's mother.

Walking up to his house drowsily, he noticed his own mother’s car was gone and noted something she had said about going out with his little sister. Add that to the list of things to be happy about today since he most certainly didn't mind alone time. He toggled around with his backpack, pulling out the house key under tons of other shit that he didn’t need to carry around with him but carried around anyway, and eventually unlocked the door.

Donghyuck thought it was strange when he heard the sound of the television quietly playing from the family room, considering his mom never shuts up about turning everything off before they even leave a room, let alone the house (insisting that if he wants to leave stuff on then he can pay the electricity bill). Donghyuck thought it was even more strange when he registered the two pairs of shoes sitting by the door that didn’t belong to anyone living in the house.

It all made sense when he walked into the next room.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” Renjun scowled, turning from his spot on the couch.

“We don’t have a cat, but Happy New Year to you too,” Donghyuck said, dropping his bag where he was standing. “How the hell did you get into my house?”

Jeno scowled, and that’s the moment Donghyuck knew he was finished. “Your mom let us in before she left. But new year, new you, I guess, huh? Because she said you were hanging out with Mark Lee, and that doesn’t make sense with the Donghyuck I know.”

Donghyuck tried to speak, but all he could do was open his mouth. No sound would come out, but his mind was going about a thousand miles a second and he figured he couldn’t even be mad at his mom about it because he had never told her it was a big, ugly secret.

“Don’t even try to explain anything right now, man,” Jeno said, shaking his head. “I’m gonna assume your mom wasn’t lying to us.”

Donghyuck squeezed his eyes shut. “No. No, she wasn’t.”

“What the fuck?” Renjun squeaked at a pitch that, if only a little higher, would’ve been audible exclusively to dogs. That was the moment that Donghyuck knew he was not only finished, but he was essentially a dead man walking. “I actually feel like we’ve entered an alternate universe right now. Last I heard about Mark Lee you hated him, and now you’re ringing in the new year with him instead of us? What is going on?”

“Okay, wait,” Donghyuck said, but for the first time in his whole life, he didn’t have an explanation to weasel his way out of the situation.

“No,” Renjun declared, standing up and getting closer to Donghyuck. “I don’t care who you’re friends with. Really, I don’t. But why didn’t you perhaps say anything, ever? Like, how long have you even been friends with him?”

Jeno frowned at Donghyuck from his spot on the couch, and Donghyuck felt completely cornered. He thought maybe this was exactly the type of predicament he deserved after all the falsehoods he had created for the people who were supposed to trust him most.

“We’ve… well, we’ve associated since October. We’ve been friends since, uh… around Halloween? I don’t know,” Donghyuck muttered, trying to look at his friends but always finding his eyes drifting to the television or the floor.

He turned to Jeno, who shook his head. “What? What’s that mean?”

“It’s… like, really weird,” Donghyuck said, because it honestly was. “I didn’t want to be his friend, but then eventually we became friends, and I didn’t want to say anything and he didn’t want people to find out, so it… that’s why I never said anything.” Donghyuck felt like a different person, so much smaller than normal, and suddenly all the happiness that had filled his soul two minutes beforehand had evaporated.

“Wow. Okay,” Renjun said. “I just actually don’t get it, and I’m trying so hard to get it. Like, you guys clearly aren’t just casual acquaintances if you’re blowing us off for him.”

Donghyuck cast his eyes down at his feet, analyzing every little speck of dirt on them just to avoid Renjun’s angry stare and to hide the fact that tears had started forming. “He was upset the other day, and I wanted to be there for him.” He shook his head. “So, no, not casual acquaintances.”

“Okay. Well. That was nice of you, but I’m gonna be petty that you ditched us for him.” Donghyuck swore Renjun’s glare really had gotten stuck on his face.

“Donghyuck,” Jeno said. “How did you become friends with Mark?”

Donghyuck let out a breath, willing his voice not to shake. He swallowed hard, not wanting to cry about this situation, because he hadn’t cried about everything with Mark yet. Because it didn’t feel real until now. “Lunch,” he practically whispered. “He started sitting in Mrs. Kang’s room when him and Jaemin broke up.”

“Oh my God,” Renjun remarked, eyes wide. “You’re his replacement for Jaemin.”

If Donghyuck had been asked about the next few moments after that remark, he would say it was all a blur, probably from how quickly he told his friends to get out and how he started crying the moment they walked out the door.

—

Donghyuck thought a lot, for a few days. He thought again and again about the same thing. You’re his replacement for Jaemin. He replayed that in his mind, convincing himself that it wasn’t true. Which always failed, because five minutes later he’d be in tears, convinced that it was true. And that at least if he was Jaemin, then Mark wouldn’t hide him from people.

But Mark didn’t know, not for a little while. Mark would text Donghyuck as usual, and Donghyuck never let it be known that he was currently struggling with an internal debate about everything surrounding their friendship. Hell, Donghyuck even worked out things with Jeno and Renjun before winter break ended, because he was lucky enough to have friends who didn’t hold grudges against him, but on the first day back to school, Mark still didn’t have a clue.

“So what, then?” Renjun said before lunch. “Who’s getting lunch today? Are we gonna have to take Mark to court for custody rights?”

Donghyuck shook his head weakly. “Mark gets it today. I have to talk all of this through with him.”

Which was true, he most definitely was planning on doing that, but that didn’t mean he was in a rush to do it. He walked to Mrs. Kang’s room at a pace that told of cement filling his shoes, because for some reason that was unknown to him, he was terrified of what Mark would say. When he finally reached the room, he let his hand rest on the doorknob and took a deep breath. You’re Lee Donghyuck. You don’t get scared to tell anything to anyone. He opened the door.

“Bad news, bud,” Donghyuck said, before Mark had the chance to get happy to see him. “They found out our big, bad secret.”

Mark’s face turned a shade of white that gave ghosts and sheets of paper a run for their money, his eyes widening. “Who? What? How? What are you talking about, Hyuck?” he started babbling in a panic.

Donghyuck rolled his eyes as he sat down. “Just Jeno and Renjun. Don’t burst a fuckin’ blood vessel.”

“Oh. Oh, okay, that’s not too bad, right?” Mark said, color slowly filling his face again. Donghyuck’s stomach churned at what he was about to say.

“No… no, it’s not too bad,” he spoke slowly. “But if it had been someone else, would it have been too bad?”

Mark’s face tensed into a frown, lips in a pout. He considered Donghyuck’s words for a moment. “No, Hyuck, I just thought… you know, that we didn’t want people to know we’re friends.”

“So we still want that?” Donghyuck asked, and for the first time, he was forcing casual.

Mark gave him a questioning look. “I, uh, I don’t know. I want that, I think.”

“Right,” Donghyuck replied, not looking Mark in the eyes. “Me too. I mean, my friends didn’t mind us being friends, so I just thought maybe other people wouldn’t mind either.”

“You know how people are. They talk. A lot,” Mark said.

Donghyuck shook his head, willing away any reservations that he held, refusing to lose his character for Mark’s sake. “You know that’s never bothered me.”

“I just need more time,” Mark softly replied after a moment.

That lunch period was exceptionally quieter than usual.

—

It took Donghyuck awhile to process that, the idea that Mark still wanted something that he was starting to let go of. He couldn’t understand why this was suddenly bothering him. It had been what he wanted for himself too, for so long — and now suddenly he was upset at Mark for wanting that exact same thing. That wasn’t right, was it? It couldn’t be, and Donghyuck knew he had to get over it. Mark was a good friend, and he had no place thinking otherwise. Mark wanted to be private, and Donghyuck, of all people, should’ve understood that. He needed to.

But not everyone agreed with that school of thought.

“I don’t know,” Jeno said thoughtfully from his spot on front of the television. “Are you sure you’re okay with that?”

No, I’m not sure. “Yes, it’s fine.”

“Donghyuck, just be honest. It’s okay if you’re not okay with it,” Renjun said, and Donghyuck appreciated the effort that Renjun was putting forth to replace his annoyance with compassion.

Donghyuck sighed. “What do you guys want me to say? I appreciate the concern, but we’ve kinda played this whole secrets game for awhile. I’m used to it.”

“No, Donghyuck,” Renjun said, and the stern tone he had taken on forced Donghyuck to listen. “Being used to something doesn’t mean you’re okay with it. People get used to lots of awful stuff, but it doesn’t make it okay.”

That was true, and Donghyuck was well aware of it. Donghyuck was well aware that Renjun was basically always right, and even when he wasn’t right, he was pretty damn close.

“Fair point. But really, I’ll let you know if I have a problem with it.”

Renjun frowned, clearly not given the answer he wanted. “I can talk to him for you if you want.” Donghyuck knew that translated to I can yell at him for you if you want, which he decided Mark didn’t deserve, even in all his secretive shame, because getting yelled at by Renjun always proved to be a very draining ordeal.

Before Donghyuck had a chance to say that yelling would absolutely not be necessary, Jeno chimed in again. “I just don’t get why it’s a secret in the first place. I mean, I don’t love Mark, but I wasn’t gonna excommunicate you if you had just told us.”

Donghyuck shot him his most shit-eating smile, an attempt to swing the situation back in his favor. “Naïve Jeno, you’ll understand these adult matters when you grow up.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Jeno sneered, flinging the pillow he had been leaning on right at Donghyuck’s head and just barely missing. “You don’t even understand why you did it yourself.”

“You don’t have to read me like that,” Donghyuck mumbled, rolling his eyes.

“Anyway, you two,” Renjun interjected. “I don’t think anyone should hide you, Donghyuck. Seriously. It makes you seem like an embarrassment, which you’re not.”

Right again.

“Well, I hid him too, so we’re even.”

“Well, he’s not my best friend, so I really don’t care,” Renjun protested, and Donghyuck didn’t dare to counter.

—

Maybe, Donghyuck thought, lying to everyone had made lying to himself a lot easier — the age old cliché. Because, in fact, he was growing less and less okay with being the hidden friend everyday, and yet he was constantly convincing himself that it was alright. He was certain that he could move past it, though, for the sake of standing by Mark because that, in and of itself, felt like enough for him. He couldn’t believe it, the idea that he had started placing so much importance on Mark’s friendship, and he felt like maybe it was something about the new year.

After he first told Mark what happened, he never mentioned it again. There was no use, knowing that Mark wanted what he wanted, and there was nothing that could change that. Donghyuck decided that things had been fine before — they had reached a point of contentment — and if he only let everything return to normal, he could feel it again. He wouldn’t want more if he already felt content, and so content was what he aimed to feel.

“We never do anything fun, you know,” Donghyuck pouted, leaning his chin onto Mark’s shoulder during lunch on one abnormally sunny, warm January day. It had taken a couple of weeks for Donghyuck to get really good at forgetting he was unsatisfied at some deep, overwhelming level, but he had mastered it now, and he was sure Mark’s oblivious self didn’t have a clue.

“So you’re saying I’m boring,” Mark replied, never turning to look at Donghyuck, whose face was almost too close to his, buried into his flannel. “Just be honest, Hyuck.”

Donghyuck chuckled, pulling his face away and busying himself with poking Mark’s side. “No, I’m saying we sit in here, we sit in our houses, and that’s about it.” Mark turned to look at him, curiosity filling his eyes. “And if you were boring, trust me, I’d let you know.”

Mark laughed, reaching out to brush a piece of Donghyuck’s hair out of his face, and Donghyuck felt his heart aching at the soft touch. “You could use a haircut, you know,” he commented, eyes bright.

“Don’t change the subject, Mark Lee.”

“Fine, Lee Donghyuck,” Mark replied, and the smile on his face even resounded through his voice. “Then what would you like to do?”

Donghyuck gave him his sweetest look, sliding his chair closer and playing with the hem of Mark’s too big flannel. “Have you ever gone to karaoke, hyung?”

“Not since I was 11, and hopefully never again,” he answered. The corners of Donghyuck’s mouth perked up in a sly smile, and Mark immediately began to protest. “No. Donghyuck, absolutely not. Don’t look at me like that.”

“Mark hyung,” Donghyuck whined. “Let’s go to karaoke this weekend. Just me and you, so how could it be that embarrassing?”

Mark shook his head. “It could be that embarrassing because it is that embarrassing. My karaoke memories are cringeworthy.”

“You’re embarrassing just by being you,” Donghyuck reasoned, still tugging at Mark’s shirt. “Karaoke couldn’t make it much worse.”

“That’s not how you convince someone to go somewhere. With insults.” Mark’s words were angry, but they contrasted with the smirk forming on his face, and Donghyuck knew he would agree to it.

“But you love me,” Donghyuck teased. He could feel himself pushing on the edge of flirting, which he was sure had happened about a billion times without intention. This time, it was intended.

Mark’s cheeks, unsurprisingly, turned red at the comment. “Why are you so set on karaoke anyway?”

“Because it’s fun, and I haven’t gone in awhile,” he said, grabbing Mark’s hand. “And I want to hear you sing.”

“I can’t sing, you’ll see,” Mark replied, and immediately, a look of regret filled his face. “I mean, wait…”

Donghyuck let out a chuckle, squeezing the older boy’s hand. “So that means you’ll go. Because you said, and I quote, ‘you’ll see.’ That means we’re going.” He smiled triumphantly.

“Fine,” he pouted, trying to pull his hand away in exaggerated annoyance but failing. “But you’re paying.”

—

It was happening. No, it had happened.

Donghyuck had caught himself flirting with Mark. And thinking about Mark before he went to sleep and finding reasons to text Mark more often and looking forward to seeing Mark and the whole feeling butterflies in his stomach bullshit whenever Mark looked at him for a millisecond longer than usual. Donghyuck hadn’t had feelings like this before, not anything that lasted longer than a week before he got bored of whoever inspired them, and now it was sinking in.

Donghyuck liked Mark. He tried to pinpoint when it had happened, but he couldn’t. All he knew was that he realized it when a stupid karaoke date with Mark was getting him through a stressful week, and he decided that he had probably been lying to himself about this one for awhile too.

He couldn’t tell Renjun and Jeno — not just yet — because they were anti-Mark as it was, and Donghyuck hadn’t proclaimed a “crush” on anyone since… well, probably ever. That was territory reserved specifically for romantic Renjun and loyal Jeno, not for him, and he liked it that way. But everything had led up to it, built up to it, especially with how hard his emotions had hit him on New Year’s, and now he was left figuring out how to handle having feelings for a person who didn’t even want to openly be his friend.

And as much as that made Donghyuck feel like a clingy, lost puppy, just how he had viewed Mark when he first met him, it made him feel a lot better when Mark texted him first.

Mark

[10:45 PM] I cannot believe ur making me go to

karaoke tomorrow

[10:45 PM] Truly evil

Donghyuck smiled, standing in the bathroom brushing his teeth. He replied with one hand as his toothbrush resided in the other.

Donghyuck

Wow ur really up at night thinking about it [10:47 PM]

Poor baby. So worried [10:47 PM]

Mark

[10:48 PM] >:(

[10:48 PM] Not worried. Just mad at u

Donghyuck laughed out loud, walking to his room and plopping down on the bed.

Donghyuck

As if u could ever be [10:50 PM]

Mark

[10:51 PM] Ur so lucky ur cute

Oh. Donghyuck thought. That’s new. He racked his brain, wondering if Mark hadn’t said things like that before or if his newly accepted emotions were making familiar things feel different. He swore it was new, though.

Donghyuck

Stop flirting with me Mark Lee [10:54 PM]

Which was, obviously, the opposite of what he wanted. That’s what you do, right? You tell dudes to stop flirting when you clearly want them to keep flirting? Donghyuck ran through a montage of corny movie clips in his head, of teenage girls saying “oh, stop” and laughing obnoxiously when the heartthrob flirted with them. He ultimately concluded that he needed to get ahold of himself.

Mark

[10:56 PM] Don’t flatter yourself :p

[10:57 PM] U need sleep little one

[10:57 PM] Big day of school and singing tmrw

Donghyuck

I’m only a yr younger than u -.- [10:58 PM]

Mark

[10:58 PM] I could actually feel u rolling ur eyes

Turning off the lights and crawling under the covers, Donghyuck yawned, typing out another reply.

Donghyuck

U know me well [10:59 PM]

Good night angel face <3 [10:59 PM]

I could actually feel u blushing from here [11:00 PM]

Mark

[11:00 PM] U know me well too

[11:01 PM] Sweet dreamssss

Donghyuck fell asleep thinking of Mark, and he dreamt of a sunny summer day.

—

If Donghyuck didn’t know any better, he’d have said Mark was nervous, and maybe it was about something other than the singing.

“You’re not gonna make fun of me, right?” Mark asked, grabbing at the sleeve of Donghyuck’s jacket as they walked into the karaoke room.

“No, for the millionth time,” Donghyuck said, shrugging him away so he could take off his jacket. “But I can’t promise you won’t feel completely moved when you hear my voice. Tears are expected.” He sent a devious grin in Mark’s direction.

Mark laughed in disbelief, throwing his own jacket on the couch. “Oh, I’m sure.”

Donghyuck was fine with the fact that Mark was shy about the whole scenario, and it didn’t bother him, because he was entirely in his own element. He considered the possibility that maybe if he wasn’t used to karaoke, he’d feel the same way Mark did about it — he then trashed that notion because he knew it was entirely false. He was Lee Donghyuck after all, and as much as he empathized with Mark, he knew he couldn’t force himself to relate.

But, for Mark’s sake, he started off at what he would consider a beginner level, exclusively choosing infectious songs that required more of a performance through a fit of giggles than actual singing. Donghyuck went with all of Twice’s title tracks to make Mark loosen up. Who doesn’t feel comfortable bopping to Twice, anyway? he asked himself as he decided on the songs, and his theory was proven right, because Mark was singing with him and hitting the TT even faster than he expected. He thought it was so adorable, how Mark had actually been worrying about something as simple as karaoke and then within a few minutes, he was acting like his normal, dorky self.

“You hustled me,” Donghyuck said a few songs later. “All the nerves were a complete act.”

“No! Absolutely not!” Mark countered, taking a sip of water. “I was genuinely nervous.”

“Why? You’re not even completely tone-deaf,” Donghyuck replied, smirking.

Mark laughed. “I don’t know… I’m not used to this kind of stuff. And I was, uh, like, a little nervous to sing in front of you.”

Donghyuck busied himself with finding another song and hoped that Mark couldn’t see the smile that had grown on his face. “Not to bring up a sore subject, but didn’t you do shit like this with Jaemin?” Which Donghyuck figured wasn’t a fair comparison, because Jaemin was his boyfriend, and Donghyuck was just Donghyuck — but he said it anyway.

“Well… well, uh, I mean, not really,” Mark said after sitting down on the couch in the room, and when Donghyuck turned to look at him, he had a shy smile on his face, rubbing the back of his neck. His stomach, not surprisingly to himself, did a flip.

“That’s lame,” Donghyuck concluded.

Mark shrugged. “Yeah, it kinda is.”

With that, Donghyuck scrolled through the list of songs until he arrived at some old ballad his mom always played in the car, deciding that he should at least try to properly sing because that was why he really loved karaoke. He wasn’t one to toot his own horn (okay, yes, he was), but he had to say he had a decent voice. Even Renjun and Jeno would agree with him, and they tried to avoid inflating his ego at all costs.

“Let me have my solo moment,” Donghyuck said as the music slowly filled the room.

The older boy put his hands up, leaning back on the couch. “Hey, I wasn’t planning on intruding. Go right ahead.”

Donghyuck turned to face the screen, and suddenly he felt a rush of what had to be nerves. That was uncharted territory in his world — he never got nervous about singing. Not like he did it a lot anyway, but when he did, he felt happy, never nervous. He considered that his audiences usually consisted of his family and his best friends, not someone like Mark, and that gave him an explanation that he accepted as being valid.

Despite the knots that had filled his stomach and the feeling in his throat that made him believe any words he tried to sing would come out as a squeak, he took a deep breath and told himself to suck it up because, after all, what was there to be nervous about? Closing his eyes, he let the first few lines ring out, quieter than he would’ve liked but not half bad. For the whole first verse, he never turned to face Mark, even when he opened his eyes to read some of the lyrics that he couldn't remember.

Slowly but surely, he let his voice grow louder, more confident and less shaky, and the nerves subsided. When Donghyuck finally allowed himself to turn and catch a glimpse of Mark, he had to admit he wasn’t sure what he expected, but he never could've expected what he found. Mark’s eyes were glued to Donghyuck, but his expression was impossible for Donghyuck to read. He swore he almost looked like he would be sick, which wasn’t exactly the desired reaction when you’d been singing for someone for the first time. He looked away, hoping maybe he was just reading too far into things, but when he looked back again, Mark still had that same shocked expression on his face.

Donghyuck allowed his brain to run to the idea that maybe he sounded absolutely terrible, which he then realized simply wasn’t an option (he didn’t need to be self-deprecating for the sake of explaining Mark’s odd reactions). He then arrived at the possibility that maybe Mark was stunned at how good he sounded — but that was silly. He thought he was good, but not that good. Maybe Mark’s just zoned out. The guy doesn’t have great self-awareness to begin with.

By the time Donghyuck finished the song, he had somehow managed to let himself run through every possibility his brain could conjure up, and each one didn’t seem to fit quite right. It made him uneasy, not being able to read what Mark thought, and he almost regretted letting himself be so vulnerable, singing in front of him. The moment the music finished, he turned and looked at him.

“So. Were you absolutely wowed?” Donghyuck said, hoping enthusiastic confidence would be enough to cover how afraid he was to find out Mark’s reaction.

Mark’s eyes widened. “Donghyuck. Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“What?” Donghyuck frowned.

“That you can sing. Like, really, actually sing,” Mark said, voice getting higher. “It’s like… your voice is beautiful.”

The lighting was a little dim, but Donghyuck could see the blush on Mark’s cheeks from the confession. For a moment, relief washed over him — relief that Mark didn’t think he was terrible or some other awful thing — but it was soon replaced with the giddy, corny feeling of butterflies that was striking him more and more recently.

“Shut up, hyung. Don’t be so extra,” Donghyuck replied, turning to the screen to find another song and avoid having Mark see the stupid grin that was finding its way to his lips.

“No, Donghyuck, I’m serious!” The conversation fell for a moment until Mark spoke again. “Oh, shit. You have to do the talent show, Hyuck.”

At that, Donghyuck had to spin around and look at Mark, just so what he said would be completed with a scowl directed straight at Mark. “Mark Lee, are you sick? Do you know me? Absolutely not.”

Mark got up from the couch, approaching Donghyuck. “You have to. Everyone would be blown away, man. Seriously.”

“I don’t have to do anything. And I don’t really care how everyone else feels,” Donghyuck retorted, shaking his head and turning away from Mark.

“Please, Donghyuck! Please,” Mark started pouting, and Donghyuck nearly jumped at the feeling of Mark snaking his arms around him and placing his head on Donghyuck’s shoulder. “Just think about it.”

“Get off of me, hyung.” Or not.

Mark shook his head against the crook of Donghyuck’s neck. “Nope. I’m not one for threats or ultimatums but I won’t get off of you until you agree to at least think about it.”

“Why do you care anyway?” Donghyuck asked, agitation in his tone.

Mark’s voice got softer, slightly muffled against Donghyuck’s shirt. “Because you’re really talented, and I shouldn’t be the only one hearing that.”

Donghyuck’s stomach churned with some variety of nerves that only Mark ever inspired within him, and he tried his hardest to fight it off. “You’re not the only one, Mark hyung.”

“Fine. Then the only one other than your family and your dynamic duo,” he replied, smiling.

Donghyuck rolled his eyes. “Don’t read me like that all the time.”

“So you’ll consider it?”

There was no real reason for him to say no, other than the fact that he might’ve had more apprehension about the whole singing in front of people thing than one would expect. He knew Mark wouldn’t let it go anyway, because once he got excited about something, it was hard to curb that enthusiasm. Donghyuck sighed.

“I’ll consider it,” he said tentatively. “Consider it. I’ll think about it, Mark. That doesn’t mean I’m gonna do it.”

Mark let him go (and in hindsight, Donghyuck wished he had fought it for a little longer just to have Mark holding him), and a huge grin filled his face. “Right. Just think about it.”

—

Mark certainly thought about it a lot. He went home that night, and the only thing he could hear echoing through his mind was Donghyuck’s voice. Try as he might, that voice was the only thing he could think of, and he figured if he stopped thinking about it for longer than a moment, it would escape from his memory. He most definitely did not want that.

He had already thought Donghyuck was a pretty boy, and truthfully he wondered how a person could think otherwise. But after hearing him sing, he felt like Donghyuck had something magnetic about him, something that separated from other people and made him special. Something that made him glow. Mark was completely enamored.

There was no way he had feelings for him. What he felt for Donghyuck couldn’t be feelings, because he hadn’t felt feelings for anyone but Jaemin for longer than he could remember. But some saying Johnny always used kept popping into his head. If it looks like a duck, swims like a duck, and quacks like a duck, then it probably is a duck.

Mark thought it was difficult to say feelings were looking or swimming or quacking, but he sure as hell knew what he was experiencing felt a lot like feelings. As terrifying as it was, he was too happy to let it bother him, so he allowed himself one night free of worrying.

—

Donghyuck didn’t think he would ever consider it, because he wasn’t exactly the school talent show type. In fact, he would deem himself the opposite of that type, whatever being that type entailed. Mark would mention it from time to time — that he just absolutely needed to try out for the talent show — and each time, the idea seemed to stick with him a little more. He had until the end of January to decide, not like it was exactly nagging at him that badly, and that was quickly approaching.

He decided maybe this time, he should consult his best friends, considering this one would ultimately be impossible to hide if he chose to do it.

“Did he hypnotize you or something?” Jeno asked from the other side of the lunch table. “Renjun, feel his head and see if he has a fever.”

Donghyuck swatted Renjun’s approaching hand away with a frown. “No, I’m not sick or hypnotized or poisoned or anything like that, you assholes. I just want to know what you guys think.”

“I've been saying for years that you should try singing seriously. Now Mark says it, and you finally listen?” Renjun whined.

“For real, Hyuck. We’re feeling pretty ignored over here,” Jeno joked, stifling a laugh.

Renjun huffed out a long, loud breath dramatically. “Surprised you’re even sitting with us.”

“I’m asking you because I value your opinions. Should I do the damn talent show or not?” Donghyuck snapped, rolling his eyes at the pair.

Renjun opened his mouth to say what Donghyuck assumed would be a snarky remark continuing to be petty about Donghyuck supposedly valuing Mark’s opinion more than his own (which wasn’t true, Donghyuck lived by the motto ‘Renjun knows best’), but Jeno cut him off.

“Yes,” Jeno said, matter-of-fact. “Absolutely yes.”

“And you’re sure about that?” Donghyuck was somewhat hoping that they’d laugh in his face and nix the idea entirely, and that plan seemed to be going to shit.

“Yes, Donghyuck, you know my answer is yes,” Renjun groaned, pushing his hair out of his face.

Jeno grinned, chuckling lightly. “Renjun has spoken.”

“So I guess that means it’s happening,” Donghyuck answered, and suddenly uneasiness was taking over. He wasn’t so sure about it, not in the slightest, but Jeno and Renjun seemed sure, and Mark seemed sure. That had to mean something.

—

The thing about Donghyuck was that he didn’t necessarily need to be described as “perfect” or “the best,” but he would certainly be described as “special.” That was how he did his audition for the talent show. Not perfect, not the best, but special.

Donghyuck was nervous, of course. The largest audience he had ever sang for consisted of about 20 people at a family party, all of whom he was related to, and they were obligated to hype him up even if he sounded terrible. But luckily, Donghyuck could hide his nerves, something that half the other students in the auditorium could not do. He decided they were all over-prepared, over-rehearsed, and overall overly enthusiastic, three qualities that did not apply to him, and somehow, that was to his advantage.

When the name “Lee Donghyuck” was called by Mrs. Cho, the music teacher who was running the whole event, he ignored some of the strange stares he got. They were most likely inspired by the fact that he was, as he already knew, not the school talent show type, and so he ignored the stares as he always did. If he didn't care, he wouldn’t be bothered, and so he wouldn’t allow himself to care. Sure, Donghyuck had practiced — he was singing ‘You Are Not Alone’ by Michael Jackson, though, and he knew that song well enough to not need to prepare an insane amount apart from his English pronunciation. But he hadn’t practiced enough to get caught up in his own head. That was his best strategy.

He sang, right in front of everyone as if it was no big deal, and he watched as the stares of bewilderment turned to stares of awe, almost like the way Mark looked at him. Not quite the way Mark looked at him, of course, because he actually cared about that look — but it reminded him of it, and he had to stop himself from smiling too obnoxiously. In some strange way, he liked the attention, and he had never liked attention in that way before. Walking off the stage, he got a few stray compliments peppered amongst the unreadable gazes that came his way, and he started thinking Mark’s suggestion hadn’t been the worst idea in the world.

The talent show was (obviously) not a big production, and he knew he had gotten a spot the next morning, thanks to an announcement on the school’s main bulletin board. He was excited, a fleeting emotion which was soon replaced with a vague feeling of nausea and regret. You liked singing for those people. Stop freaking out. He told himself that a few times, before reminding himself that the amount of people he sung for the previous day would be multiplied at the actual show.

He pushed the thoughts down as best as he could, reminding himself that was something to worry about another time. For now, he could only focus on one thing — telling Mark.

“Okay, don’t freak out,” Donghyuck said, sitting down across from Mark at lunch.

Mark’s eyes inspected his face, trying to decipher whether it was good news or bad. “You got in, right? There’s no way you didn’t.”

"Don't freak out, Mark hyung,” Donghyuck repeated, and his attempt at graveness was floundered by the smile that crept onto the corners of his mouth.

“You got in,” Mark replied, eyes lighting up.

Donghyuck crossed his arms and forced the smirk off of his face. “Everyone gets in, Mark hyung, it’s the fuckin’ school talent show. So don’t get all excited.”

“Oh my God, I knew you would! I knew it. Stop downplaying it!” Mark exclaimed, and Donghyuck could feel the smile threatening to reappear on his own face, lips quirking upwards. “I’m proud of you, Hyuck.”

“Everyone g—,” Donghyuck began arguing again, but Mark cut him off.

“Yeah, I heard you the first time, Hyuck. Everyone gets in.” He leaned in a little bit, closer to Donghyuck. “I don’t care if everyone gets in. You got in, and I’m happy about it.”

Looking down at his hands, Donghyuck could feel his face burning at Mark’s kind, supportive nature and unbridled enthusiasm. “Thanks, hyung,” he mumbled.

He wanted to say it out loud, to thank Mark for always granting him the praises that he refused to grant to himself. Instead, he kept it buried deep, filed under “reasons why Mark Lee is an angel in disguise,” and as selfish as it was, he wished with all his might that Mark didn’t give other people a reason to think he was an angel too.

—

If Donghyuck was nonchalant, then he thought that Mark was whatever the fuck the opposite of nonchalant was. Chalant, he thought. If ‘chalant’ was a word, Mark would be it. Donghyuck didn’t make things into a big deal because it felt silly to him, but Mark was the polar opposite, and Donghyuck had always hated people who were so unapologetically excited about everything. That was until Mark came along.

The things that Donghyuck was supposed to be over the moon about didn’t cause reactions in the way they would within a blatantly optimistic person. Of course, he felt excitement and joy as much as anyone else, but those things were tied down for him, not always coming to the surface. It was like Mark displayed all those overflowing emotions on his behalf, channeling every bit of energy that should’ve resided within Donghyuck, and the upcoming talent show was making that even more apparent than usual.

Mark was happy for his success (even though Donghyuck insisted it wasn’t success), and Donghyuck’s occasional after school rehearsals, which left Mark without an algebra buddy on some days, was making Mark like some sort of clingy pet (which Donghyuck didn’t mind how he did when he first got to know Mark). Combine happiness with clinginess, and you got the version of Mark Lee that made Donghyuck’s heart sing the most. The version of Mark Lee that sometimes made Donghyuck convince himself for even a split second that maybe Mark liked him back.

Sitting in his room one Wednesday night, doing algebra homework that felt excruciatingly worse without Mark by his side, he smiled when his phone vibrated with a message from Mark.

Mark

[7:34 PM] I miss u study buddy

Donghyuck could’ve replied truthfully, saying he missed him too. Donghyuck, being who he was, didn’t let his real emotions be that apparent.

Donghyuck

So thats all i am to u? A study buddy? [7:35 PM]

Still using me </3 [7:35 PM]

Mark

[7:37 PM] Shut up

[7:38 PM] Fine

[7:38 PM] *I miss u my angel

Donghyuck knew he liked Mark — although he didn’t like thinking about that, and he hadn’t quite accepted it out loud yet — but he especially liked the version of Mark that sweet-talked him after not seeing each other for a day (because seeing each other in algebra didn’t actually count). He replied without bothering to wait.

Donghyuck

Much better [7:38 PM]

Miss u too my sweetheart [7:38 PM]

Mark took a little longer to respond, and Donghyuck took those five minutes to contemplate his life decisions (completely out of character, but Mark seemed to do that to him). Just as he was ready to regret his attempt at flirting and start to panic, Mark texted back and relieved him of his worries.

Mark

[7:43 PM] Come over for dinner on Friday

[7:43 PM] Pleaseee don’t say u have plans

Donghyuck

Fine Mr Desperate but we can’t order out [7:45 PM]

I’m broke as helllll [7:45 PM]

Mark

[7:46 PM] I’m not desperate!!!

[7:46 PM] And no worries I wanted to cook for you :)

Donghyuck thought that was funny, the thought of Mark making food, and he simultaneously felt like he would get sick from Mark proposing that idea. Because, honestly, it was a romantic idea.

Donghyuck

Ummmm will that be edible [7:48 PM]

I’m scared r u trying to poison me [7:49 PM]

Mark

[7:50 PM] Please shut up n let me impress u

[7:51 PM] Or at least try to

The fact that Mark wanted to impress him and was openly admitting it made nausea overpower humor. He collected his thoughts for a moment before replying.

Donghyuck

Ok dollface can’t wait <33 [7:53 PM]

Ur a lil lame tho [7:54 PM]

Mark

[7:55 PM] Yes I know I’m lame compared to the best

singer in the school

[7:56 PM] Sorry bout that, hotshot

Donghyuck spent the rest of the night debating with himself. He knew he was entirely worthy of being admired and liked by someone, because he could be lacking in many areas, but self-confidence was not one of those areas. He knew he was a decent person. But something in his mind kept nagging at him, telling him not to be so sure, bringing him back down to earth from the unbothered, unbreakable state he convinced himself of possessing.

He was confident, but he was also 16 years old, and 16 surely comes with at least a shred of self-doubt, even within the best of the best.

—

By the time Friday night rolled around, Donghyuck ran through every possible option of why Mark could propose what he was now calling “the dinner date.” Not openly — well, not openly to Mark. He had snapped at some point between Wednesday night and 6:00 PM on Friday (to be specific, Thursday at lunch) and “accidentally” made the “mistake” of mentioning the little hangout to Jeno and Renjun.

“Donghyuck,” Renjun squealed as if Donghyuck had just broke the news that he had gotten engaged, or some other huge life moment that warranted squeals. “Lee. Donghyuck. That is a date. Finally someone here has a damn love life!”

Donghyuck shushed him, lowering his own voice when he spoke. “Would you please shut the fuck up or at least freak out a little less obnoxiously? It’s not a date!”

“One: you absolutely would not be telling me to quiet down if you didn’t feel some type of way. Two: you’ve never mentioned any of your activities with Mark to us unless it had a relevant reason.” Renjun’s entire body literally looked like it was buzzing with happiness as he spoke, and quite frankly, Donghyuck was slightly freaked out.

“Not true, and not true again. I talk about him all the time, bud,” Donghyuck protested, but as always, Renjun was right.

“You are full of shit,” Renjun replied with a smile that was verging on frightening. “But,” he went on, tone softening, “you are so cute when you’re in denial. You like him.”

Jeno held up a hand. “Wait. With all due respect, aren’t we anti-Mark?”

Renjun looked stumped for a split second, before collecting himself and starting to explain a justification that he had clearly just conceived. “We were anti-Mark before I found out that Donghyuck had feelings for him. If Mark can bring Hyuck’s cold, dead, unfeeling heart alive, something good is going on. We just have to work past the secrecy.”

“Hello, idiots!” Donghyuck interjected, waving in their faces. “I’m right here. And I don’t like Mark.”

Jeno shot him a flat look. “Yes, you do. Just save it for people who haven’t known you since third grade.”

Donghyuck knew it was completely uncharacteristic of Jeno to blatantly follow along with Renjun’s love doctor ways, and the shock of it left Donghyuck unable to reply. He neither confirmed or denied what Jeno said, only thought about it as Renjun spent the remainder of the period analyzing Donghyuck’s feelings on his behalf. It occurred to him that his friends knowing what he felt wasn’t as scary as he thought it would be before, and he wished he had tried it awhile ago.

—

Just like on New Year’s Eve, Donghyuck felt more pressure than usual when he arrived at Mark’s house. He knew it was silly, because it really wasn’t a date, no matter how many times Renjun had insisted that it was. All day, he had repeated the mantra over and over in his head — not a date, just friends, not a date, just friends — and he convinced himself that he wasn’t going to make this into something bigger than it was. He didn’t even wear makeup when he went to Mark’s house, and he dared to repeat a casual outfit, just to emphasize the idea that this was totally just a fun hangout between two completely platonic guys.

If that was the message Donghyuck was trying to send, then the instant Mark opened the door, Donghyuck couldn’t tell what message Mark was trying to send. Because Donghyuck had seen Mark cute, and Donghyuck had seen Mark really cute, but he hadn’t seen him like this. His outfit wasn’t something Donghyuck would’ve called fashionable or trendy, but for Mark, that button down and black jeans combination was nice, and the hair that was actually styled back for once was really nice.

“Wow,” Donghyuck said, because if he didn’t let himself be obvious, he knew he’d just seem entirely suffocated. “You clean up nice.”

Mark shook his head, grabbing at Donghyuck’s hand and prompting him to come inside. “Shut up, it’s extra, I know. You’re making me embarr—,” he started to ramble.

“Oh, calm down,” Donghyuck smiled, hanging up his coat. “It’s not extra, it’s nice. So you earn the title of style icon for the evening. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity when you have me as competition.”

Mark went from vaguely looking like he was about to choke to over the moon with pride in about one second flat, and Donghyuck’s mind wandered to grabbing him and kissing him for the same amount of time, before he told himself to calm the hell down and get it together.

“So,” Donghyuck went on, eyeing Mark playfully. “You kicked everyone out for me?”

“No! No. That’s not… my parents had plans, so… yeah. That’s all,” he spluttered, and he proceeded to guide Donghyuck into the kitchen.

Sadly, Mark absolutely could not cook. Like, at all. He had somehow managed to burn rice, and Donghyuck thought it was the most pitiful thing he had ever witnessed.

“Mark,” Donghyuck scolded. “This is crazy. Let me help you since you clearly do not know how to cook.”

“No!” Mark repeated for about the hundredth time in the past 15 minutes. His resistance was beginning to lose strength, though, and he backed away from the stove.

Donghyuck got up from his chair and shrugged past him. “I’ll handle this, chef,” he chuckled, picking up a spoon and tasting some strange chicken concoction Mark had started to make for the main course.

“This is pathetic,” Mark groaned as Donghyuck began remedying the situation at hand. “I’m older than you. I should be able to, like, do this type of stuff for you.”

Donghyuck laughed to himself, sweeping his hair out of his eyes while he busied himself cooking. “Cooking skills don’t exactly come with age, just with experience.” He didn’t turn to look at Mark, but from the way he grumbled in reply, he could just picture the tense, dejected look on his face, and it made him laugh some more.

After a few minutes of quiet, aside from the quiet noise of the television, Donghyuck had effectively fixed the situation and saved them from going hungry. At the return of tranquility, he broke the silence. “Why’d you want to do this anyway if you can’t cook?”

He turned to Mark finally, who was slumped over in his chair. Mark looked at him, straight in the eyes, almost like he wanted to find the answer to his ridiculous idea by looking at Donghyuck. He felt vulnerable at the strong gaze, like Mark was seeing too much, seeing his thoughts somehow. Mark opened his mouth to speak, but it took a few seconds for noise to finally come out. “I, um… well. I just…”

“No,” Donghyuck replied, leaning himself against the counter. “Stop it. Just say what you have to say.” He felt emboldened, knowing that whatever Mark was going to say was loaded, and he wanted to hear it.

Mark took a breath before starting again. “I heard my mom talking the other day, and she said cooking for someone was one of the best ways to show your appreciation for them. And I… well, I appreciate you, Donghyuck, and I’m so happy for you with the talent show, I just had to do it.” He giggled nervously. “It didn’t really work out though.”

If Donghyuck had wanted to kiss Mark before, that desire increased tenfold at his confession. It took every bit of willpower in his body to resist taking a few long strides across the room and grabbing Mark and kissing him about a million times. Begging himself to have restraint, he spoke, a soft smile on his lips. “Well, now I cooked for you, and you kinda cooked for me. We’re even.”

“We’re not even,” Mark said quietly. “I feel shitty, you know, for being the asshole who doesn’t tell people that we’re friends. Not like I have many people to tell anyway, but still.”

Donghyuck’s heart jumped up in his throat at the mention of their private friendship, and he was almost shocked that Mark thought about it the way Donghyuck did. “It’s not a big deal,” Donghyuck reassured him weakly. “I didn’t voluntarily tell my friends.”

“No,” Mark insisted, shaking his head, “but you’re brave, and you don’t care about things the way I do, and I didn’t know how to repay you for all that. So this was it.”

“You didn’t ha—,” Donghyuck said quietly, but Mark interrupted.

“I did have to. Just… what else can I do?” Mark looked desperate at this point, genuinely worked up over the idea that he wasn’t doing enough for Donghyuck. “Tell me some way to make it up.”

With someone else, Donghyuck’s answer could’ve been a simple “you don’t have to do anything,” and the other party might have moved on, because they hadn’t wanted to actually do anything excessive in the first place. But this was Mark, who was, despite his inexplicable shame in being friends with Donghyuck, the most genuinely kind person Donghyuck had ever known. Donghyuck was aware that Mark meant it, that he wanted to do something more, and he was aware that Mark would be riddled with guilt if he didn’t have another way to even the score.

He turned back to the pot on the stove, stirring slowly as he thought about the proposition, a pensive expectation filling the room. Donghyuck wanted so many things, things that required Mark to have the same feelings he had, and he knew that wasn’t fair. So he eventually chose something that required decency and courage, rather than feelings.

“The talent show is March 6th,” Donghyuck stated, returning his gaze to Mark.

Mark nodded, a confused look on his face. “Yeah, go on.”

“So come to the talent show,” he replied cautiously. “And don’t pretend like you don’t know me, hyung. Just…” Donghyuck squeezed his eyes shut for a quick second before he went on. “Just be my friend. Openly. You have time to process that, or whatever.”

“Okay,” Mark said. “Okay. I can do that.” He didn’t sound too sure.

Donghyuck attempted to keep his expression neutral. “It’s over a month away. You have time to prepare yourself, if that’s what you need to do.”

“No, it’s not something to prepare for. It’s fine. It’s completely fair,” Mark assured him. “And I was gonna come to the talent show anyway.”

A ghost of a smile found its way to Donghyuck’s face. “Good. Were you planning to show up without any apparent reason and leave without saying a word to me?” Donghyuck chuckled, but he knew that was probably exactly what he planned.

“I… no, that’s not it…” he stammered.

Donghyuck slightly grimaced, but he couldn’t let himself feel hurt by Mark at that exact moment. Not when Mark had tried to do something so nice for him with the attempt at cooking. “It’s fine, hyung. I’m kidding, and I get it. We’re not exactly an expected pair of friends.”

“You don’t deserve to be hidden, whether people expect us to be friends or not.”

It was funny, Donghyuck thought, how Mark believed these things but acted so unaccordingly. He smiled at the irony, realizing that people, no matter how kind, were creatures of hypocrisy. “I know that, silly.”

That wasn’t a lie, he absolutely knew what he deserved, and he had decided awhile ago that not getting it for a little while longer was okay for the sake of being friends with Mark. So the mood lightened, and Donghyuck saved dinner, and the bad thoughts were delayed for a little while longer.

—

Despite the fact that Mark knew he was not treating Donghyuck fairly, he was terrified. Completely and utterly riddled with fear, the same fear that had always forbade him from leaving Jaemin and opposing his prior friends, the same fear that was now making him hide his friendship with Donghyuck. A friendship that he believed he didn't deserve, because Donghyuck was too great, and he was too cowardly.

He considered it again and again, but any rationality kept being overpowered by his dread for March 6th, and he hated himself for it. He knew it was wrong, and he wanted more than anything to stop caring, but his mind refused to let it happen. But just when he thought his internal conflict genuinely could not get much worse, Jisung decided to come over, barge in, and raid the Lee residence for any food he liked (which was mostly everything).

“Mark hyung, who’s that guy who’s always over here?” he asked curiously, voice muffled as his head poked around inside the pantry, and Mark nearly spat out his drink at the inquiry. He took a moment to consider if that’s what Jisung had really asked or if the pantry had muffled him so badly that Mark had misunderstood. He silently prayed for the latter.

“Come again, Jisung?” Mark managed to respond.

Jisung emerged from the pantry giving him a strange look and holding a bag of chips Mark didn’t even know they owned. “That guy who always comes to your house. Who is he?” Before Mark had a chance to reply, Jisung continued chattering as he began eating. “I think I’ve seen him at school. He’s tan, about your height, dresses kinda weird… he’s literally the only person who you ever have over so I shouldn’t have to describe him much.”

“Yeah, Jisung, I got it without the whole explanation,” Mark answered, wanting to sound unconcerned but just managing to sound a little too defensive and annoyed. “It’s kinda weird that you’re watching who comes in and out of my house anyway.”

“Whatever. I’m just being an attentive neighbor,” he replied through a mouthful of chips.

“Don’t eat and chew at the same time. Wait, I mean, don’t talk and chew at the same time,” Mark sputtered nervously, trying to deflect from the Donghyuck conversation.

Jisung rolled his eyes. “Okay, Mom, thanks. So answer the question.” He was starting to look amused, and that’s how Mark knew he was in trouble.

“His name is Donghyuck, okay? You satisfied?” Mark answered with a sigh.

The younger boy nodded slowly, considering what Mark had just divulged. “Donghyuck. Okay.” The only sound for a moment was Jisung chewing, and then he began again with a devilish smirk plastered on his face. “So is he your new boyfriend?”

“No!” Mark answered practically before Jisung had even finished the question. “No, never in a million years.”

“Hm. Okay. You sure about that?”

Mark groaned. “Yes, Jisung, I’m sure. But I’m not sure I’m ever letting you in my house again, because you’re just here eating all our food and bugging me.”

Jisung shrugged innocently. “I only asked a question about your new friend Donghyuck. I didn’t think it was so bothersome to ask people questions about their friends.”

“It’s just private,” Mark replied, and that was entirely the truth. When it came to Donghyuck and Mark, it was private.

“Whatever you say,” Jisung answered. “But speaking of private, have you talked to Jaemin lately?”

Mark felt himself tensing up at the mention of Jaemin, who he hadn’t talked about in a record amount of time. “Nope,” he answered simply, picking at a nail.

“Well, I have,” Jisung retorted with a glint of mischief in his eyes.

“Okay,” Mark said. “Nice.”

Jisung shook his head, squinting at Mark. “Yeah, well, I think you’ll want to hear this.”

Mark absolutely knew he did not want to hear anything about Jaemin. Well, he probably knew that. Trying to sound calm, despite the fact that he could actually feel his heart rate rising, he replied. “Okay, then tell me.”

“He asked about you. He might’ve said he missed you. I don’t know,” Jisung taunted with a smirk.

“Great,” Mark answered, but his voice was just a little too squeaky to sound casual.

Jisung flashed a big, toothy grin, closing up the bag of chips and putting it back in the pantry. “You guys should talk.”

“You’re a child, Jisung, I’m not taking advice from you,” Mark rolled his eyes, feigning annoyance to cover up the panic that was spreading throughout his entire body.

“Well, clearly I’m a child with better communication skills than you,” he retorted, and Mark couldn’t say he was wrong.

Jisung left his house, walking out so casually as if he hadn’t done anything, as if he hadn’t caused any damage to the progress Mark was making. He felt weak from the mention of Jaemin and specifically the mention of Jaemin mentioning him, and he wondered why he let himself become victim to the vicious cycles Jaemin perpetuated. The same cycles he felt like he would perpetuate with Donghyuck.

Laying in bed that night, going over everything an amount of times that was absolutely impossible for him to count, he concluded that he hid Donghyuck because he didn’t want to ruin what he swore was still waiting for him somewhere down the line. He didn’t want to tarnish the friendships that he swore he would get back, even after months had passed — tarnish them with the idea that he was strange or different from the rest of his former friends. He didn’t want to hear what Jaemin thought, and he didn’t want to ruin the potential of things that weren’t even that great to begin with.

He figured vicious cycles were hard to break, and breaking them required bravery that he evidently didn’t possess. Donghyuck has bravery, he thought with resignation. But I don’t.

—

Donghyuck was nervous and excited and filled with anticipation for all the wrong reasons, and he only felt relief that, at the very least, he was aware of how silly it was. Sure, he was nervous and excited and filled with anticipation to sing at the talent show, but even more so, he felt those emotions about the fact that Mark vowed to be there for him. He thought from time to time that maybe the request was too big, too difficult for Mark to fulfill, but Renjun assured him about a thousand times that “if that’s too difficult, then Mark is a damn fool,” and that was the end of that.

He was still fighting with his feelings because they felt too unfamiliar to sit right with him, convincing himself that maybe what he felt for Mark genuinely was not romantic. He was aware of how silly that was, too, because he had never felt the desire to grab Jeno or Renjun and kiss them, and yet that engulfed his thoughts pretty greatly when he was with Mark. He liked it, in some strange way, even though it occasionally made him want to bash his head into a wall.

What really made him want to bash his head into a wall, though, was the month of February. A specific day in the month of February. Donghyuck had always hated Valentine’s Day, and he truly thought it was the most obnoxious holiday in existence. He cursed it every year, and he swore it wasn’t out of bitterness but rather out of disgust. But this year, the sight of pink hearts and boxes of chocolates was making him feel giddy. Giddy. He was enraged at himself. He swore this was a form of treason against himself, against his own character. And he didn’t see any reason to be happy about it anyway, because it wasn’t like he was dating Mark, and it wasn’t like Mark liked him. Despite these facts, he couldn’t help but feel excited regardless.

He figured Mark had to be the type who loved Valentine’s Day — because he was Mark, and he was enthusiastic about anything that required even the slightest fuss — and he thought for days about how to bring up the topic without blatantly begging Mark to be his Valentine. Be your fucking Valentine? he would scold himself. Who even are you anymore? But, like magic that Donghyuck had hoped for, the topic brought itself up one day at Mark’s house as they studied, in the form of a corny commercial for a Valentine’s Day sale at some store.

Donghyuck sat on the floor in front of the couch, eyes on the television as Mark did his work, not paying any attention. “Do you like it?” Donghyuck asked without any context, gaze still glued to the screen.

“Huh?” Mark asked, looking up from his algebra notes. “Do I like what?”

He turned to Mark, hoping that this was the most casual way to ask him about the holiday without being extra. “Valentine’s Day.”

Mark’s brows furrowed for a moment, suggesting that he was thinking, which was strange since it wasn’t a question that required much thought. Donghyuck analyzed his expression, waiting for any glimmer of emotion one way or the other until Mark responded.

“Uh, it’s nice… right? I’ve never minded it, I mean, it’s nice to have a holiday for the people you love,” he slowly answered, looking and sounding uncertain.

“Oh,” Donghyuck answered vaguely. He turned back to the notebook in his lap, attempting to return to his homework. “Yeah, it’s alright.”

“People think it’s special, you know, to be dating someone on Valentine’s Day,” Mark went on. “It’s cute, but it’s not as magical as people say.” Once he had finished, Donghyuck could sense Mark chewing on a fingernail, and he wished like he had so many times before to tell him to stop the bad habit. Like he had so many times before, he didn’t.

“I wouldn't know,” Donghyuck retorted, acting more preoccupied with his work than he actually was. He hoped he hadn’t sounded exceedingly bitter.

Mark took a moment to mull that over, and even with the silence, Donghyuck refused to look back at him. Eventually, after what seemed like thoughtful contemplation, he spoke. “Have you ever dated anyone?”

Donghyuck hated that question coming from Mark. From anyone else, he could securely say no; with Mark, he felt like it was requesting something too raw, too vulnerable. Turning red, he tried his hardest to sound relaxed. “Nah, I haven’t.”

“Oh. Yeah, I didn’t think so.” Immediately, Mark’s tone raised, going into panic mode. “Not like that! I mean, I just… you never mentioned anyone, so I just assumed, but I didn’t mean I would expect you to be single. I just meant, you know.”

With a chuckle that he couldn’t suppress, Donghyuck turned to look at Mark. “I get it, hyung. Don’t burst a blood vessel.”

Mark let out a breath. “Sorry. I didn’t want to seem rude.”

“You’re fine,” Donghyuck comforted him. “It wasn’t rude.”

The atmosphere returned to a serene state, nearly drowsy and monotone with the light buzz of the TV and the sound of pages turning and pencil on paper, the dim light of a cloudy day cast through the windows. A few minutes of the soft stillness conquered the room, eliminating any tension until Mark’s voice cut through the air.

“Why’d you ask about Valentine’s Day?”

Donghyuck shrugged. “Am I not allowed to ask about your opinions?”

“Well,” Mark said hesitantly. “Do you like Valentine’s Day?”

Body going tense, Donghyuck turned to evaluate the look on Mark’s face. Unsurprisingly, he seemed nervous. “Why are you asking about Valentine’s Day, then?” he taunted.

“Shut up, forget it,” Mark muttered, shaking his head.

“I hate it,” Donghyuck said, grinning. “It’s a ploy for companies to make money by exploiting people caring about their loved ones and feeling pressured to do some type of grand ass gesture. But yeah, it might be kinda nice.”

Mark chuckled as a confused look overcame his face. “So which is it, Hyuck? Because you said you hated it then took it back.”

“My opinion is still forming,” Donghyuck answered, and he was starting to get the feeling that he needed to bold now or else he never would be.

“Interesting,” Mark commented, twirling his pencil between his fingers.

Donghyuck nodded, and the feeling kept growing. It was like an itch that needed to be scratched, nagging at him, and now or never kept swirling through his mind. With a final prayer that he wasn’t making a big mistake, he let go of his fear and spoke. “Let’s hang out on Valentine’s Day.”

“Why?” Mark asked, sounding perplexed and slightly alarmed.

“Because I’m trying to form an opinion,” Donghyuck said with an air of confidence that even surprised himself. “And I thought maybe it would be a positive opinion if we hung out.” He shrugged. “But that’s fine if you don’t wanna. I can live with hating Valentine’s Day.”

Donghyuck almost bursted out with laughter at how bewilderment was now plastered to Mark’s face. He had a tendency to do that, to have his emotions written all over his face, his heart on his sleeve. Donghyuck figured that even if Mark completely opposed the idea, at least that vague rejection would be easier to deal with than the regret of not even asking.

“That’s… that’s a good idea,” Mark replied slowly. “We can do that.”

With every ounce of willpower in his being, Donghyuck resisted appearing overly excited. “You better not fuck up my opinion, Mark Lee,” he warned jokingly.

Mark shoved him lightly with a laugh. “I’ll try, but you better not fuck up mine either.”

“You know that would never happen.”

Mark just hummed in agreement, and Donghyuck smiled to himself.

—

“How many times are you guys gonna go on dates without calling them dates?” Renjun asked at lunch, a few days before the long awaited February 14th. Jeno had stayed home sick, and that left Donghyuck with a full lunch period of Renjun grilling him about his crush.

Donghyuck scowled. “Couldn’t I ask you the same thing about Jeno?”

The look of horror on Renjun’s face told Donghyuck that he hadn’t thought anyone had caught on to that, especially not Mr. Lee “I mind my own business” Donghyuck. “Coming from the one who’s obsessed with exclusively focusing on his own business, no, you cannot ask that,” Renjun argued.

“Well, it’s starting to become my business with how obvious your heart eyes are getting,” Donghyuck countered.

Renjun’s face went red, a color reminiscent of his bright locks which had once again faded, and he glared at Donghyuck. “Shut up and stay on topic. Stop deflecting.”

Donghyuck rolled his eyes. “We haven’t gone on any dates, Renjun.”

“No, you just haven’t called any of them dates. But they’re still dates.” He took a shady sip of his juice, and Donghyuck wanted to smack it out of his hand.

“I’m sure Mark would beg to differ,” Donghyuck said.

“Why don’t you ask him and find out?” Renjun taunted. Donghyuck truly despised him from time to time.

Donghyuck groaned, rubbing at his temples for a few seconds. “You’re infuriating.”

Renjun set down his drink in reply, placing his elbows on the table and his chin in his hands. “Okay, fine. I’m just trying to understand why you’re resisting so badly.”

“Because,” Donghyuck answered, “I know it’s not like that. I’m afraid that if I push it too far he’s gonna be freaked out because he didn’t realize how I felt.” Donghyuck suddenly felt so exposed, revealing that to Renjun. Even Renjun looked surprised at the admission.

“Donghyuck, come on,” Renjun said softly. “Why would he agree to hang out on Valentine’s Day of all days if he didn’t get the hint?”

Donghyuck’s eyes widened. “You think he knows?”

“I mean, if he’s not a complete idiot, yes,” Renjun reasoned.

“You don’t know him. He’s oblivious as hell.” That was true. Donghyuck had considered what Renjun said plenty of times before — that his little crush was relatively obvious — but he had to factor in Mark’s general ignorance.

Renjun chuckled. “Give him a little more credit. Valentine’s Day had to have been a red flag.”

Renjun, of course, had a point. As oblivious as Mark was, it was pretty clear that Valentine’s Day was about love and hearts and flowers and sappiness and all the things that should’ve pointed every sign to screaming “I like you.” There was no way it could’ve gone entirely unnoticed.

“You’re right,” Donghyuck mumbled between bites of food.

“Of course I am. But just promise me you’ll try to drop hints on Valentine’s Day, okay?” Renjun plead.

Donghyuck frowned at him. “I drop hints all the time,” he scoffed.

“No, like, real hints. Big hints. Like, big enough for Mark Lee to notice.”

“Oh,” Donghyuck replied. Well, that's a little harder. He had to admit to himself that Mark needed a lot of those types of things spelled out for him, and nothing Donghyuck ever did was glaringly obvious.

“Exactly,” Renjun laughed, and Donghyuck began contemplating possible ways for him to let Mark know he liked him without ever daring to say those words.

—

He found the answer to his troubles staring him right in the face. Donghyuck had almost forgotten about it, an afterthought that had been abandoned and avoided for quite some time. After what seemed like an unnecessarily extensive amount of contemplation, he remembered it — the little book of astrology, still neatly sitting in its bag from the store in the corner of Donghyuck’s room.

Like some sort of saving grace (which he felt dense for not remembering sooner), the book was the perfect little hint. Not quite as terrifying as planning to go to Mark’s house with a blatant profession of adoration, not quite as subtle as… whatever he was doing at the moment. To the best of his wrapping abilities, he donned the present in shiny red wrapping paper, a small smile on his face because he knew this just had to work. How couldn’t it work? Gifts on Valentine’s Day aren’t exactly platonic, right? Right, because he figured he had never gotten a platonic gift on Valentine’s Day, so it must not exist.

It was exactly what he had needed, and the only room for error existed within the fact that Mark might blatantly turn him down. But, just like during prior holidays, he was letting the magic of the day turn his negativity to pure optimism, even smiling as he carefully placed the book in his backpack. He reminded himself of all the sweet things Mark had said to him — the way they slept in the same bed on New Year’s Eve, the fact that Mark had wanted to cook for him recently, and all the other nuances in Mark’s behavior that pointed to something more — and he thought this was it. This was the way he could somehow make this whole thing with Mark work.

Valentine’s Day fell on a Saturday, and Donghyuck was itching to leave for Mark’s house from the moment he woke up. He was the opposite of his usual self, caring way too much about every little detail and about how things would appear. They set the time for 4, but Donghyuck told himself he needed to arrive a few minutes late, not to seem too eager. He was annoyed at how he was acting, so insecure and worried about how Mark would interpret the situation, when obviously it didn’t matter that much.

Still, he carried on with his excessive attention to every little facet of the situation, and by the time he arrived at Mark’s house that afternoon, he figured he had everything down to a science. He had practically rehearsed it, getting the gift out and giving it to Mark and saying just the right words to make Mark get the idea and return the sentiment. Spending an extra moment on the doorstep to collect himself, he calmed himself down, and then he knocked.

Mark opened the door, late afternoon light falling onto his small features, and Donghyuck was ready to get everything over with right then and there, because Mark looked beautiful. “Hey, Hyuck,” he said, smile and voice sweet like candy, as usual. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Donghyuck grinned back at him, stepping into the house and removing his shoes and coat. “Happy Valentine’s Day, hyung.”

He felt sparkly from within, which was nauseatingly corny. He was aware of it. It was the holiday making him feel like some sort of magic would occur, Donghyuck knew it was, but he couldn’t shake the feeling. Why would he want to anyway? It was so happy and hopeful, and he couldn’t remember feeling quite like that ever.

Walking up to Mark’s room, golden light pouring in through the windows, Donghyuck had to smirk to himself. This would work.

“Mark hyung,” Donghyuck cooed as they walked into the room. He sat on Mark’s bed, setting his backpack down beside him. “I need to tell you something.” He had some vague, loving speech planned to go along with the gift, and this was how he had planned segueing into it.

“Wait,” Mark said, fidgeting a little as he stood a few feet away from Donghyuck. “Me too. Can I just say it first?”

Donghyuck pouted, as this was an unexpected part of the plan, but he shrugged, figuring it wouldn’t hurt to hear whatever Mark had to say. “Stealing my thunder,” he chuckled. “Go ahead.”

“It’s a good thing, really,” Mark said, appearing to scrutinize Donghyuck’s expression as he waited for a response, chewing on his bottom lip.

“Okay, hyung. Say it then.” Donghyuck’s stomach churned, because the way Mark said good didn’t sound very convincing.

Mark waited a second, swallowed hard, then spoke. “I talked to Jaemin last night.”

“Okay. And?” How could talking to Jaemin in any way, shape, or form be “a good thing?” Donghyuck thought. Unless you told him to fuck off, and he promised to fuck off forever.

“And I think we’re gonna get back together. Or, uh, at least try to start over again,” Mark replied, unable to keep still. He kept moving, touching his hair and scratching his neck.

Donghyuck just stared at him, completely still except for the way his brows had furrowed. His stomach felt like it had dropped entirely, and he had to make sure he had heard that right or that he had gotten the holidays wrong, that it wasn’t April Fool’s Day instead. “What?”

Mark let out a nervous chuckle. “He said he misses me. It’s like a Valentine’s Day miracle, right?” The look in his eyes was almost pitiful, like it had been on the day he had come into the art room crying. He looked lost, trying to find what Donghyuck was thinking and coming up empty.

“What?” Donghyuck repeated, this time more severity in his tone.

“What do you think?” Mark asked meekly, attempting to sound positive.

Donghyuck closed his eyes and shook his head, almost like he was trying to wake up from a bad dream. He took a deep breath before he opened his eyes again to just make sure he wouldn’t absolutely lose it.

“What do I think?” he asked, and Mark desperately nodded his head. “With all due respect, Mark hyung, I think it’s idiotic.”

“Why?” Mark’s voice was feeble, indistinct.

Everything in Donghyuck’s body was screaming at him to cry, every single sensation he felt was pointing towards tears stinging his eyes. He held them off. “You hate Jaemin.”

“No,” Mark protested, slightly agitated. “You hate Jaemin.” He looked scared after uttering those words, like he had taken a very dangerous misstep.

“You can’t be serious,” Donghyuck sneered, looking up at the ceiling to ward away the tears. “He’s terrible to you. Like, completely and utterly terrible, and you want to act like it’s crazy for me to hate him? As if he hasn’t treated you like shit?”

Mark scowled at him in a way that Donghyuck was unfamiliar with. It appeared foreign on Mark’s face, and Donghyuck nearly flinched at the look. “Save it, Donghyuck,” he said, voice shrill. “You hated him before you even knew me. Stop using my problems with him as an excuse for your grudge against him.”

His words were so ridiculous to Donghyuck that he had to let out an amazed chuckle. “You’re serious? What the fuck is wrong with you?” He stood up, but he didn’t dare to even inch towards the older boy.

“Me? What about you?” Mark replied, eyes searching, desperate to grasp the situation. “You’re supposed to be happy for me, Donghyuck!”

Donghyuck ran a hand through his hair, utterly in disbelief. Disbelief at how fast his dream day had changed. “Sorry, but no, I’m not gonna be happy about your relationship with a terrible person. Good friends don’t do that.”

“Stop calling him terrible. You’re so judgmental,” Mark blurted, tensing up. “You just think you’re better than everyone else, don’t you? As if no one in the world is worthy of your standards.”

Donghyuck felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. He didn’t know Mark was capable of such vicious anger. He didn’t even know Mark was capable of genuine conflict. It was scary to him. He was scared, because this felt like something new within Mark had been awoken. His eyes stung so bad, vision starting to blur from how many tears were ready to spill.

“Mark,” Donghyuck said, his words biting even as his voice shook. “You are all the things you didn’t want to become. You’re just like Jaemin and all his friends.”

“I’d rather be that than what you want to be,” Mark spat. “You want to be nothing.”

Hot tears started pouring down Donghyuck’s cheeks — the first time he had cried in front of anyone in a very long time — and he grabbed his bag. “No,” he retorted. “You just treat me like nothing when anyone else is around.”

Mark’s expression was somewhere in the same ballpark as shock and anger and fear, and he nearly backed away as Donghyuck walked towards him.

“Well, in case you want to know what I had to say,” Donghyuck said, still holding strong through his tears. His hand fished around in his bag until he pulled out the present. “I got this for you. Guess it’s pretty pointless coming from a friend who’s apparently as terrible as I am, but I don’t really want to hold onto any reminders of you.” He handed the gift over to Mark, who was absolutely reeling, clearly dumbfounded from what had just occurred.

“Donghyuck,” Mark nearly whispered, his own voice starting to break. “Wait.”

He sniffled, shaking his head at Mark. “No. You said what you said, you can’t take it back now.” Donghyuck opened the door to Mark’s room, ready to make his escape as fast as possible. “See you around.”

Donghyuck walked out the door, refusing to look back even when Mark kept talking, stammering and stumbling over his words, words that sounded like some mess of an apology. All Donghyuck could think of was the night at the party, Mark calling out after him to remedy another ugly situation that had been caused by Jaemin. He put on his shoes as fast as possible, grabbed his coat, and walked right out of the house, tears still flowing even in the cold February air as he tried to make sense of what had happened.

He didn’t bother to call his mom to pick him up, seeing as she hadn’t dropped him off more than 20 minutes ago anyway, instead opting to walk home. It wasn’t that far away, and he figured the fresh air was stopping him from passing out due to pure humiliation and devastation and every other bad feeling he could conjure up.

It’s a first, he kept musing to himself. Renjun was wrong.

—

Donghyuck thought taking a sick day because of a boy was the most dramatic thing in the world and an easy way to convey to said boy that he had won. But Donghyuck did it anyway — the most un-Donghyuck thing he had ever done, allowing another person to stop him from living his life the way he pleased.

He faked a stomachache on Monday morning, which his mom accepted without an argument, but he figured she had an inkling that he was skipping school for reasons other than his health. Walking in the house sobbing on Saturday might have tipped her off, and the tear-swollen face he had sported the rest of the weekend might have tipped her off even more. She asked, because she was a caring mother, and she insisted, because she was a nosy mother, but Donghyuck never budged, chalking it up to “hating everyone” and being “done with emotional attachments” in typical teenage fashion.

Mark had texted him a few times after Donghyuck stormed out, to which Donghyuck had responded with some very strong words about not wanting to hear it and a threat to block his number in the heat of the moment if Mark kept pestering him. Those powerful replies made Donghyuck feel better for about a minute, give or take, and then he broke down in regretful tears, feeling bad for something he didn’t even need to feel bad about. He felt weak, and he felt gross, and he was crying on and off for so long that everything just started to feel like a constant, drowsy blur. So, feeling weaker than ever, he turned to who he could trust.

Donghyuck didn’t make requests often, urgent requests that demanded fulfillment, so when he did, Jeno and Renjun knew it was serious. He didn’t explain, just told them to come over after school and to pretty please not be alarmed by how messy he was going to appear when they saw him.

They were still pretty alarmed.

“Oh my God,” Renjun exclaimed before he had even walked in the door. “Are you okay?” Then, something clicked, and he grimaced. “It was fucking Mark, wasn’t it? I knew something was up when you gave me a vague reply about the Valentine’s Day shit. I knew it. I’m actually going to fight him, Donghyuck.”

Donghyuck’s eyes filled with tears for what must’ve been the millionth time in the past 48 hours. He pulled the blanket that was around him closer to his body. “Yes, it was Mark, and please no fights.”

Before he knew it, Renjun was squeezing him tight, and Jeno followed suit, sandwiching Donghyuck between the two of them. He let out a few stray tears before they pulled away, preparing himself to inevitably explain what happened.

The explanation took longer than it should’ve because of how many times Renjun angrily interjected and how long it took Jeno to calm him down each time (“Mark is such an asshole, I swear to God” “Renjun, he did even say what happened yet” “Well, I hate him regardless”). By the time Donghyuck was finished, he had cried more than he wanted to admit, a sight that was rare even to his best friends.

“So, for once in your life, you were wrong, Renjun,” he quietly finished his story. “He was evidently uninterested in me.”

Renjun frowned, and Donghyuck swore he looked like he wanted to cry himself. “I’m sorry, Donghyuck. Of all the things to be wrong about, I wish it hadn’t been this.”

“We are completely and utterly anti-Mark,” Jeno announced, placing a comforting hand on Donghyuck’s shoulder. “And anti-Jaemin too. Which we already were, but just saying.”

Donghyuck giggled, using his sleeve to wipe at his eyes which were still damp with tears. “This must be what I get for all the times I dragged you for liking Jaemin. I basically screwed myself over by liking his equivalent.”

“Don’t start,” Renjun warned. “This is not ‘what you get.’ This is some mad ugliness that is absolutely not your fault.”

“Exactly what he said,” Jeno agreed, giving Donghyuck a warm smile.

With a noncommittal shrug, Donghyuck agreed. Renjun’s one lapse in accuracy hadn’t changed that he was right about everything else. “I’m not blaming myself, trust me. I just generally feel like a piece of shit on the side of the road right now.”

“Listen to me, Hyuck,” Renjun declared, commanding Donghyuck’s attention. “You just stay away from him as much as possible. No more secret lunches, no more secrets at all. You’re a human, not some secret.” Donghyuck nodded weakly, and Renjun went on. “Focus on your stuff, school, the talent show, and just don’t give this lowlife the time of day.”

Donghyuck looked at Renjun, then Jeno, and back again. He nodded once more. “Okay. No more secrets. No more Mark.”

He was fine with the former, not so fine with the latter, because he knew it would be easier said than done.

—

Donghyuck cursed himself for being relieved when he saw that Mark was not sitting with Jaemin at lunch on Tuesday. He cursed himself for being jubilant when he saw that Mark was not sitting with Jaemin at lunch for the entire week. He figured Mark had told Jaemin off in some way, or maybe Jaemin had decided to be fickle as usual, and that left Mark where he had been, in the room Donghyuck’s friends now absolutely forbade Donghyuck from even getting near.

It was weird, though, seeing Mark in algebra. They had never before spoken in the walls of that room (which, in hindsight, Donghyuck saw as being absurd), but not speaking in there now felt different. It felt too hot in the room, filled with too much tension that couldn’t be broken, the two boys avoiding any sort of interaction. Sometimes Donghyuck could sense Mark’s eyes on him, and it took a lot of strength to resist turning around and saying something. Truthfully, there was nothing for him to say, but it took strength regardless.

The hard part for Donghyuck was discovering that feelings don’t disappear on command. Donghyuck spent a lot of time thinking about how nasty Mark had been to him during that argument, how nasty he had been in general, keeping Donghyuck a secret like some shameful guilty pleasure. Even with this knowledge, even with the self-love that he possessed, he couldn’t shake how he felt about Mark. He thought he understood now — exactly how Mark felt and why Mark couldn’t let go of Jaemin. Because feelings don’t disappear on command, just like Donghyuck’s couldn’t for Mark, just like Mark’s couldn’t for Jaemin.

He had to busy his mind instead, follow his plan, study hard even for the classes that came easy to him, just to keep himself occupied. Talent show rehearsals ended up feeling like some sort of gift from the universe, giving him another activity that could stop him from scrutinizing the Mark situation even more. He started cleaning more around the house, and cooking more, and playing with makeup more, and doing whatever he could to stop thinking about Mark. He even talked to people at rehearsals and texted his friends more, because he didn’t want to feel alone. To feel lonely. Because he hadn’t felt lonely before Mark came along, but now Mark had made his impact and left Donghyuck with a Mark-shaped hole in his heart, and something needed to fill the space.

Donghyuck sang around the house, and he tried to smile as much as he always did, because before Mark, he never considered himself to be the person who would be torn apart by heartbreak, and after Mark, he still didn’t consider himself that person. He had allowed himself the one absent day to be defeated, and then he had to pick himself up. He had to turn himself back to how he had been before Mark walked into the art room for the very first time.

—

Donghyuck didn’t stop feeling something for Mark, but he allowed himself to make progress. He needed to make progress. Just when he was starting to commend himself for not being a broken mess anymore, Na Jaemin did what he always did. He sought, and he attempted to destroy.

“Can we talk?” Jaemin said in a voice that was scarily sweet. He had asked a question, but it seemed more like a demand anyway.

Jaemin had set his target at the perfect time, at the end of the school day, right before rehearsals when Donghyuck was alone at his locker. Empty hallway, neither Jeno nor Renjun present to help Donghyuck out. Not that he needed them — this wasn’t his first rodeo with Jaemin — but Donghyuck thought maybe he might become a murder victim within the next few moments of his life, and having his friends as witnesses might’ve helped.

“To what the pleasure of talking to you, Jaemin?” Donghyuck replied, equally as sweet, as he shut his locker. He slammed it a little harder than was necessary.

Jaemin gave him his best dirty look. “Don’t play dumb, Donghyuck.”

“Spell it out for me, then. I must be too thick to understand,” Donghyuck remarked. He didn’t even have any energy left in him to act shocked that this was going to be about Mark. He just wanted to get the bullshit over with.

“Mark. It’s about Mark.”

Donghyuck nodded slowly. “Huh. Tell me about him, it’s been awhile.”

Jaemin nearly looked offended at Donghyuck’s response. “Don’t play dumb,” he repeated. Donghyuck gave him a confused look, and he succumbed to giving an explanation. “Well, Donghyuck, if you’re oh so unaware, I’ll tell you what happened. When Mark did a complete 180 on me and told me he didn't want to get back together anymore, I figured someone had to have done something to influence him. I did some digging, and Jisung told me you two have been hanging out.”

“Jisung?” Donghyuck asked.

“Yes, idiot. Jisung. Mark’s tiny neighbor with the bowl cut.”

Donghyuck nodded, vaguely shocked that Jisung knew they hung out, but also willing himself not to care. “Oh, yeah. That one.”

“You’re such a tool,” Jaemin said, exasperated. “I don’t know if I’m more humiliated that you stole my boyfriend from me or that he actually allowed himself to have standards that low.”

Donghyuck had heard a lot worse from Jaemin, so he simply chuckled, unbothered. “I didn’t steal anyone from you, Jaemin. I haven’t talked to Mark in, like, two weeks, and I can assure you as I’m as mad at him as you are.”

The look on Jaemin’s face switched from anger to astonishment, and Donghyuck swore he had never looked so foolish (and he had looked plenty foolish before). “Two weeks?”

“Yup,” Donghyuck shrugged. “I was pretty humiliated,” he mocked, “when he told me he wanted to get back together with you, so I dropped him.”

Jaemin shook his head. “I don’t know what the fuck is happening here, but I swear to God, if Jisung lied to me…”

“Oh, leave the child out of it, Jaemin,” Donghyuck scolded, rolling his eyes. “No one lied to you. Mark and I were friends, I found out you two were getting back together, we got in a fight about it, and now we’re not friends.” Donghyuck started to inch away. “Simple enough for you?”

“What the fuck?” he almost shrieked. “And why did you care about our relationship anyway?”

“Because you’re an ass, Jaemin. You and I have clearly established this before. Now, I have rehearsal to go to,” he said, walking past Jaemin and towards the auditorium. “Great talk, though,” he called over his shoulder.

As if by some sort of divine intervention, Jaemin had no response, and Donghyuck laughed to himself as he replayed the dumbfounded look on Jaemin’s face over and over in his mind.

—

Jaemin didn’t bother Donghyuck again after that. Donghyuck figured he had been too stunned about misreading the situation and too embarrassed to cause another scene about it. Other than the stray question from his mother about why Mark didn’t come around anymore, the altercation with Jaemin was the last time anyone dared to bring up the subject of Mark to Donghyuck.

The silence was almost eerie to him, the way Mark didn’t try to reach out to him, the way it was like they had never been friends in the first place. Donghyuck figured that’s how Mark wanted it, back how it had been before their friendship had gone and screwed up whatever plans he had in place for his own high school experience. Donghyuck knew a person like himself couldn’t have been a part of Mark’s plans, and that was fair because a person like Mark sure as hell wasn’t a part of his own plans.

Still, that didn’t explain the fact that Mark had somehow flipped the switch on Jaemin, and Donghyuck couldn’t help but think about that in the times when that his mind wasn’t occupied. He’d ask himself why Mark hadn’t gotten back with Jaemin, and then he’d ask himself why Mark hadn’t tried to talk with him, and then he thought maybe Mark didn’t want either of them. He settled with that idea, because Mark wanting neither of them was somehow better than Mark wanting Jaemin instead of him.

In the end, he always ended up annoyed with himself for analyzing the issue at all, and he’d force himself to think of something else, anything else. It was hard not to wonder what it meant, but Donghyuck figured it didn’t matter anyway. He wanted to stop himself from letting Mark matter to him.

—

Donghyuck was thankful to Mark for many things that he didn’t want to admit, but he was willing to admit he was thankful for one thing, and that one thing was the talent show.

As if the universe had known that Donghyuck would need the distraction of the talent show and the release that singing would provide, Mark was ironically the one who had gifted that to him. He reminded himself not to be too grateful to Mark for that, because it was through his own accord and ability, but he still figured that everything happened for a reason, and he was glad if this was the reason behind his friendship with Mark.

Luckily, the week leading up to the talent show was the happiest few days that he had since the Valentine’s Day debacle. The weather had gotten a little sunnier, even slightly warmer, and he was singing lots. Some days, he didn’t even have the thought of Mark Lee cross his mind until he was in bed at night with nothing else on his mind, and to hold off on those thoughts was a victory in his mind. Little by little, he was training himself to forget about Mark, even if the feelings still lingered.

On the evening of the talent show, Donghyuck felt good. Really and honestly, he felt good, knowing that his best friends and his mom and his little sister would be there to see him, knowing that he got to perform for a crowd (which he was looking forward to more than he expected). The fact that the original plans were broken — the plans that included Mark being there — had to be pushed to the side, deep down to a place where Donghyuck couldn’t feel disappointed about it. He refused to let it become the defining factor of the night because it simply wasn’t worth feeling shitty about.

“Donghyuck, you’re gonna fuckin’ kill it,” Renjun said excitedly backstage. He had dragged Jeno back there with him before showtime to… well, to be extra, mostly.

“Thanks, Renjun,” he smiled. “And I’m gonna look damn cute doing it, right?”

Donghyuck knew he was right about that. He was in what he would call his final form — hair just messy enough, outfit just bright enough, and makeup just glowy enough thanks to a few girls in the show who touched it up for him. He was pleased with himself, and as jittery as he had felt all day at school, he was just ready to get up on stage by now.

Jeno let out a laugh, glowing with a smile, and Donghyuck had to laugh too. “Of course, Donghyuck,” Jeno replied. “You look adorable.”

“Don’t gas him up too much, Jeno,” Renjun teased.

“Okay, enough of you two,” Donghyuck announced. “Talent only back here.”

Renjun rolled his eyes, a grin plastered on his face despite his apparent annoyance. “Fine, fine. We’ll let you get in your zone.”

The two left Donghyuck only after wishing him good luck and forcing a few hugs upon him, and then he prepared for showtime.

Donghyuck had spent a lot of time downplaying the talent show. He told people it wasn’t a big deal, that no one gets rejected from the talent show, that it was obviously not a big event, and yet somehow, through all the downplaying, it felt so much bigger as he waited to go on stage. Something about what he was doing felt more important, more significant, than how he had portrayed it to himself and to others.

This night, on this stage, was the opposite of what he had been doing for so long. It was the opposite of all the time he had spent hiding, staying out of the spotlight, flying under the radar. He couldn’t believe that he, of all people, was doing this, willingly stepping in front of people who he usually concealed himself from. All this time, he had believed his methods were working, that they were strong and admirable. He had believed that building a wall between himself and everyone else was so noble and profound and beyond what anyone else in his school could ever do.

When he finally walked onto the stage, he felt those beliefs fading. What he had been doing wasn’t noble or strong or admirable; it was cowardly, and it was a waste of time and effort. With a smile on his face, a smile that shone brighter than his usual, he realized how much better it felt, to be seen, to want to be seen. He looked out at the crowd, not nervous but still thankful that the spotlights were stopping him from seeing much of anything, and he felt a weight lifting, a part of himself freeing.

He sang.

—

Donghyuck thought it was only fair that he had gotten some sort of honorable mention award at the show, rather than actually placing, especially considering he just stood on a stage and sang, while some people had full-blown acts. He was fine with it — truthfully, as competitive as he was, he wasn’t concerned about winning anyway — and he found that the roaring applause after he sang and random praises after the show were enough for him. He was satisfied, and he felt so full. His heart felt so full.

He found his way through the crowd afterwards, practically in a daze as he weaved through the people that had gathered in the school’s foyer to mingle. Eventually, he found his mother and sister, who showered him in more compliments and affection than he usually would’ve allowed (but it was a special occasion, so he allowed it anyway). When they were done congratulating him more than was necessary, they kissed him goodbye, as he had sleepover plans with his best friends afterwards. Those two were his next mission to find in the mass of people, but they found him first.

“Okay, first of all, you’re amazing,” Renjun practically shrieked, squeezing him tight. “Fuck an honorable mention, you’re the best.”

Donghyuck laughed, deep and loud. “Shhh, you’re gonna offend someone. But thank you very much. Honorable isn’t half bad.”

“Hell no, it’s not bad at all,” Jeno smiled. “Plus so many people said you were amazing, man.”

After singing his praises enough to make up for a year worth of compliments, Donghyuck asked if they were ready to leave, and Renjun let a slight grimace slip onto his face just long enough for Donghyuck to register its presence.

“What’s that look for?” he inquired, confusion filling his demeanor.

“Okay, well,” Renjun started, face contorted into an expression that only told of worry. “Don’t freak out, and don’t let this ruin your night.”

Donghyuck’s stomach dropped. Only one possibility could come to mind when Renjun began like that, and he didn’t want to think that was an option.

“Spit it out,” he insisted.

Jeno reached out, gently grabbing his arm. “Hyuck, just promise not to be too freaked out, okay?”

“Fine, fine,” Donghyuck asserted. “I promise.”

Renjun took a deep breath, eyes darting around the room as though he was searching for something amidst all the buzz and bustle. Searching for someone. “Well. Mark’s here.”

“No.” Donghyuck shook his head, as if denying it would make it so.

Slowly, Renjun nodded. “Okay, yes. Mark is here, and he told us he wants to talk to you, if that’s alri—,” he went on, before Donghyuck cut him off.

“No,” he repeated. He felt foolish, stunned into blank shock all because of Mark’s presence, but this was his night, and his mind was full of worst case scenarios galore.

“Hey,” Jeno interjected, sweet softness in his voice, just loud enough for Donghyuck to hear him above all the noise in the room. “You don’t have to. We can just leave if it’s gonna upset you.”

For a third time, Donghyuck repeated himself. “No.” He simply blinked at them, eyes wide. “Where is he?” Suddenly, he was antsy, like he had to see Mark, just to make sure it was true.

“Uh, he told us he’d be waiting by the entrance,” Renjun said, and immediately, Donghyuck began towards the front of the school. He didn’t make it more than two steps forward before Renjun grabbed at his arm. “Donghyuck. You’re sure about this?”

“No. No, I’m not,” he replied.

“Do you want us to go with you?” Jeno offered, but Donghyuck was shaking his head before the question had even fully left his mouth.

“Whatever he wants, I’m gonna handle it myself,” Donghyuck declared. “Just… stick around. I’ll come get you when I’m done. I doubt it’ll take long.”

He didn’t give himself any time to think about it, any time for him to overthink about it. He didn't give himself the option to back out, walking in Mark’s direction not knowing what to expect but forcing himself to be fearless anyway. This is your night, he told himself. No matter what he says, this is your night.

The sight of Mark was enough to overwhelm him. In the few weeks since they had last spoken, Donghyuck had seen Mark plenty of times, but he had avoided eye contact, avoided looking at him straight on, the same way you avoid looking at the sun. For the first time in awhile, he looked at Mark, and it was too much. Standing near the school’s entrance, looking smaller than usual, less broad, more fragile, Mark had flowers in one hand and a balloon in the other. Donghyuck would’ve swooned, if he allowed himself to feel those things for Mark anymore.

With the resolve of someone who has nothing to lose, Donghyuck walked towards Mark, steadfast in his pace, and Mark nearly looked sick when he registered him moving in his direction.

Before Mark had a chance to speak, Donghyuck started. “Heard you’re here to see me,” he said, forcing bitter sharpness in his voice as he tried to look anywhere but at the flowers.

“Yeah,” Mark replied weakly. “You were amazing. Like, more amazing than I even expected.”

“Thanks,” Donghyuck replied dryly.

Mark nodded uneasily, shifting on his feet. “Yeah, well, uh…” he said, each syllable sounding cautious. “These are for you,” he finally spat out, holding out the pink bouquet and the shiny purple balloon.

Donghyuck eyed them, chanting to himself in his head not to be overtly grateful for the gifts. It’s the least he could do. The very least, Donghyuck. “Thanks,” he repeated, grabbing them from Mark’s hands.

A heavy silence circulated in the air between them for a moment, and Donghyuck swore he would stand his ground, but when it started looking like Mark was ready to cry, he cracked, just a little. “Did you want to go talk somewhere private?” he said, trying to sound angry in contrast with his comforting offer.

Mark shook his head enthusiastically. “No. I don’t want private, Donghyuck. I just… right here is fine.”

Donghyuck took a few seconds to examine Mark’s face, search his eyes for any inkling of what he might have to say. He figured an apology was in order, but the rest was a mystery that he couldn’t seem to crack. “Say what you have to say, Mark hyung,” he requested, not as angrily as he had intended.

“I practiced this a billion times in my head,” he replied with a nervous chuckle. “But now I don’t know where to begin.”

His words reminded Donghyuck of his own plans on Valentine’s Day. “Yeah, isn’t it the worst when that happens?” he mumbled sarcastically, hardly louder than the sounds of the room, which had started to die down a little as people cleared out.

“Donghyuck,” Mark began. “I’m so, so, so sorry. The most sorry anyone has ever been. Like, world record breaking levels of sorry.”

Donghyuck resisted the urge to say “it’s okay,” instead humming a quick “mhm” prompting him to go on.

“I couldn’t get it, you know? I couldn’t get why you had gotten so mad,” he explained, and Donghyuck wanted to scream at him for not getting it, but then he went on. “No one’s ever opposed me and Jaemin. People just expected it, so I couldn’t get why the person who cared for me most would oppose it.”

The person who cared for me most. Donghyuck’s heart swelled, even though he didn’t want it to. He couldn’t stop it.

Mark spoke again, this time faster, rambling in typical Mark fashion. “I thought you were holding grudges, or being jealous, or something, and then I just… it clicked. Jaemin was so terrible to me, and you were the only person who really, like, really cared that he was so terrible. You were caring for me, and I let you down like a fucking dickhead.”

Donghyuck chuckled against his own wishes. “Yup, essentially.”

“Yeah,” he lightly laughed. “I spent the rest of Valentine’s Day thinking about it, and I ended up calling Jaemin at, like, 3 AM and telling him it just wasn’t gonna work.”

“So I heard,” Donghyuck commented, and when Mark quirked a brow at him, Donghyuck elaborated. “Jaemin told me himself. Thought I stole you away from him, of course.”

Mark looked thoughtful, as if he was picturing how that interaction had been. “I, uh… yeah, he was pissed. Literally, everyone was pissed at me. I mean, rightfully so.”

Donghyuck simply shrugged at him, as if to say of course everyone was mad, and Mark nodded.

“I just want you to know this, Hyuck,” Mark said, voice starting to fill with the feeling of a plea. “I felt lonely, like, lonelier than when Jaemin and I first broke up, and the only person I missed was you. Not Jaemin, not any of his awful friends.” His words fell a little quieter, looking hard at Donghyuck as he spoke. “Just you.”

Suddenly, the air was gone from Donghyuck’s lungs, and his throat felt dry. He had spent so much time training himself the eliminate any feelings for Mark, but his sweet words always impacted Donghyuck. Always, without fail. All he could do was nod silently.

“You… your friendship, it was so, so important to me and my happiness, and I was too dumb to realize,” Mark confessed, shaky. “You don’t have to be my friend again. I sure as hell don’t want to guilt you into it. I just… I would’ve gone crazy if I didn’t tell you, and I didn’t wanna ruin your night, but I didn’t wanna miss this either, because I promised, and Donghyuck, I don’t care if people find out we’re friends. I mean, if we were to become friends again,” he rambled on and on.

“Jeez, hyung,” Donghyuck cut him off, a faint smirk dancing into his lips. “I can literally feel your blood pressure skyrocketing.”

Mark rubbed at the nape of his neck, a shy smile on his face. “Yeah, I think it is. Sorry about that.”

“You didn’t ruin my night,” Donghyuck said quietly. “I’m… I’m glad you came tonight.”

The smile on Mark’s face grew, even though Donghyuck could tell he wanted to suppress it. Mark was never good at suppressing his emotions. “I’m glad too. Really, really glad. Have I mentioned you were, like, incredible? The best. Way better than honorable mention.”

Donghyuck rolled his eyes. “Yes, you might have mentioned that. Thanks, hyung.” A pause filled the air, and Donghyuck continued. “You really fucked up, you know. I was sad as hell,” he admitted suddenly.

“I know,” Mark answered. “And I’m so sorry, Hyuck.”

Donghyuck looked at the floor, inspecting his shoes just so he wouldn’t have to look at Mark for a moment, and then he forced himself to make eye contact for what he wanted to say next. “One night of sweet gifts isn’t gonna fix that.”

“I get it. It’s okay, I didn’t think you’d want to be friends again anyway,” Mark said, trying to force compassion but letting disappointment enter his voice anyway. Mark’s hand moved to his own mouth, biting at a nail as he waited for Donghyuck to give him more, a response that told him more. His gaze laid upon Donghyuck expectantly, and Donghyuck nearly felt like he was having déjà vu from Mark’s familiar nervous habit.

“But if you promise to be sweet to me indefinitely, that could fix it,” Donghyuck stated. “And stop chewing at your nails, Mark Lee,” he chided, letting a smile enchant his features at the strange satisfaction he got from the simple direction. “It’s a gross habit, you know.”

As if Donghyuck had complimented him rather than reprimanded him, Mark’s eyes lit up, letting his hand drop. “Sorry,” he replied happily. “I can stop chewing my nails. I can kiss your ass every minute of every day. If that’s what it takes to be your friend again, I’m 100% in.”

Donghyuck remembered the way he had seen Mark as a sad, lost puppy on that fateful day. He seemed like a puppy again now, but instead of sad and lost, he looked hopeful, loyal, so eager to make Donghyuck happy. Donghyuck felt happy.

“Okay, Mark Lee. I’ll give you your chance,” he said with a smile. “But this time, no Jaemin drama. That’s a strict dealbreaker.”

“Jaemin?” Mark played dumb, the sound of his smile filling his voice. “Who’s that? Never heard of him. Really.”

The pair bid each other farewell, agreeing to start everything over between the two of them. When Donghyuck left the school that night, his best friends by his side and gifts in his hands as he stepped into the cool March air, he felt so liberated, unshackled from his prior reservations.

It was his night. Not Mark’s, not anyone else’s. Not even his and Mark’s. His night.

—

It didn’t come all at once. Just like the way Donghyuck let Mark into his heart so many months prior, it was slow, gradual. In some ways, things picked up where they had left off, and in other ways, their friendship was new, starting fresh.

The first step was making sure that nothing about it was secretive. Instead of isolating themselves, Donghyuck invited Mark to sit with him and his friends at lunch, and somehow things clicked. Instead of being separate, the two of them stopped acting differently in public and in private. They talked in algebra (to the point where Mr. Park had to tell them to be quiet multiple times), and they walked together in the hallway.

“You know,” Mark mused one day. “No one even cares that we’re friends. We hid it for nothing.”

And it was true. As with most things that people are scared of, it wasn’t as earth-shattering as they had made it in their minds. The apparent shock that would’ve been caused by their friendship was hardly a shock at all. They had seemed to forgotten that high school students are utterly self-involved, and with that aspect factored in, their original fears held hardly any merit.

The second step was, quite simply, building everything back up in the proper way. The healthy, normal, productive way; the way friendships should be. They resumed studying for algebra together (especially because Mark swore the tests and quizzes he had to take without Donghyuck studying with him beforehand were “the utterly most awful thing” he had to do in his life). They started texting again, more and more as time went on, and they started hanging out like they had before, this time not so concerned about who would see them.

Donghyuck’s feelings were still there, brewing some place deep, bubbling up whenever Mark did something exceptionally adorable, but he had to keep those feelings at a minimum. This time, it wasn’t for the sake of denial or secrecy or anything like that, but rather for the sake of building a friendship without burdensome or complicated aspects bogging them down. He didn’t mind keeping things platonic for that reason, and he figured if something more was in the cards for them, then it could wait.

He was content with the situation as it was, and his heart didn’t ache for Mark how it once had, because he knew the friendship was now strong enough to satiate any needs that he had. He felt secure with it, and that was enough.

—

By the time Gemini season rolled around, months had passed since all the bad things that had gone down, and everything that had once seemed so hard to deal with now no longer required even a second thought. School would soon be over, and the weather was warm. The boys had found a content place of friendship, the four of them together, and it felt happy. It was fulfilling.

Donghyuck’s birthday was fast approaching, and although nothing exceptionally special normally happened (unless you considered his favorite cake and a few presents exceptionally special), he had a feeling this year was somehow different. He had a feeling there was room for some potential, some spark that meant more. His only plans included his friends coming over to celebrate, but his optimism lately had grown more than he thought was healthy. He knew something had to give.

The night before his birthday, Mark texted him.

Mark

[10:46 PM] I need u to come over tomorrow before

we all go to ur house

[10:47 PM] It’s VERY IMPORTANT

[10:47 PM] Perhaps part of a birthday surprise :D

Donghyuck

Are u fuckin serious [10:48 PM]

Also it’s no longer a surprise now ?? [10:49 PM]

Mark

[10:51 PM] STOP IT its not like I told u what it is

[10:51 PM] Plz take the time to bless me w ur

presence baby angel sweetiepie bday boy!!!!

Donghyuck was a sucker for pet names, only when they came from Mark, and how could he turn down a birthday surprise? And he sure as hell couldn’t turn down Mark. That hadn’t ever changed.

Donghyuck

Fine. Only bc ur so charming [10:54 PM]

He had no expectations, no idea of what Mark could possibly have planned. He vowed that this day couldn’t be ruined, not like how Valentine’s Day had been, and he hoped that this surprise included nothing that would somehow break his heart.

Mark, as Donghyuck was well aware, was too good at celebrating, to the point where it was nearly a fault. From the moment Mark answered the door, he was on a whole other level of celebration mode, hugging Donghyuck and wishing him a happy birthday and insisting that he put on some stupid birthday pin that looked like it had been saved from kindergarten.

“Mark, I love and appreciate your friendship, but this is definitely for five year olds,” Donghyuck insisted as Mark carefully pinned it to Donghyuck’s shirt. “I don’t even think my sister would wear this.”

“It’s fun,” Mark said with a smile. “And I think it’s very fashionable.”

The two debated about the necessity of the pin (mostly just because Donghyuck wanted to give Mark a hard time), before ultimately deciding that it was going to stay on for the rest of the day.

“Okay, now for the real surprise,” Mark announced excitedly.

Donghyuck raised an eyebrow at him. “Oh, really? The pin wasn’t the surprise?”

“Shut up,” Mark replied. “Come with me.” He took Donghyuck’s hand — to which Donghyuck’s heart felt a little too fluttery for his own good — and didn’t let it go as he led him out of the house and started down the sidewalk.

In typical fashion, Donghyuck had to complain in some way, even though he was absolutely thrilled to be holding Mark’s hand. Mark didn’t need to know that anyway. “You’re honestly making me walk somewhere in this heat?” he complained about a minute into the walk. “I don’t want heatstroke as a birthday surprise, Mark Lee.”

Mark just shook his head happily, telling Donghyuck to be quiet and patiently await what he had in store for him. All the while, their hands stayed clasped, even when their palms had gotten sweaty from the heat and the contact. After a few minutes of walking in relative silence other than Donghyuck’s irked chatter, Mark spoke.

“Okay, do you know what it is yet?” Mark asked expectantly as they walked along a strip of shops.

Donghyuck shook his head, wiping sweat from his top lip and appearing just slightly vexed. “No, hyung, you’re gonna need to give me a little more here.”

Mark laughed, continuing to guide Donghyuck down the street. “Okay, you’ll get it in a minute.”

Abruptly, Mark stopped in his tracks, smiling at Donghyuck and waiting for it to click. For a second, Donghyuck simply assessed their surroundings, and then he realized. The little pink place, happy and cute and decorated with all the bright colors of summer. It was the ice cream shop that Mark had insisted on going to a few months earlier when it was absolutely not weather appropriate and completely ruined by Jaemin.

“You bought me an ice cream shop?” Donghyuck asked sarcastically, smiling wide.

“Oh, come on, Hyuck!” Mark protested, tugging at his hand. “I thought we’d give my favorite place a try again. Nothing to ruin it this time.”

Donghyuck looked in through the glass front, assessing the scene inside. This time there were more people, understandably so, and he stood for a few seconds, watching the bustle within the confines of the ice cream shop.

“Listen,” Mark began to panic. “I know it’s not a gift, but I just wanted to take you here and buy you some ice cream. I hope you’re not, like, scarred by what happened last time, I just wan—,” he rambled, and as always, Donghyuck interrupted him.

“Hyung. Shut up. You’re adorable, and this is adorable.” Mark’s cheeks went bright red at the compliment, and the two went inside, still hand in hand until they had to hold their cones.

Donghyuck had only gotten to enjoy air conditioning for what couldn’t have been more than five full minutes before Mark started getting antsy. “Hyuck, let’s eat at one of the tables outside,” he said. “It’s nice out.”

“Nice?” Donghyuck retorted with a mouth full of ice cream. “Nice if you enjoy the fiery depths of hell.”

“No, come on,” he said, getting up from their indoor table. “And you’re a little devil, you should enjoy the hell climate anyway.”

As much as Donghyuck wanted to argue, Mark was already on his way towards the door, so he simply groaned about the change in location while following him outside.

Immediately, something about the situation was weird, and Donghyuck hoped he wasn’t just thinking that because he was dehydrating or dying in some other heat-induced way. Mark sat next to him on the bench, and he appeared like he was somewhere between vomiting and passing out. A look of worry was on his face, even as he ate ice cream, and that couldn’t have been a good thing.

“Are you about to die from heat exhaustion?” Donghyuck finally asked after taking the last bite of his cone, a few minutes of watching Mark nervously fidget already gone by.

“No, not quite,” Mark answered unconvincingly.

Donghyuck shook his head, assessing Mark’s expression as the older boy finished his ice cream too. “Mark hyung, I swear, I don’t want to spend my birthday in the hospital just because you were too stubborn to enjoy the modern wonder of air conditioning.”

“No, I’m fine. No hospital visits, I promise.” Still, his general appearance had all signs pointing to a hospital visit, leaving Donghyuck uncertain.

“Then what’s wrong?” Donghyuck urged. “Something is definitely wrong.”

Mark looked up at the sky, bright blue and sunny, filled with fluffy clouds, and he inhaled for a long moment. Slowly, he exhaled, looking back at Donghyuck, copper eyes sparkling in the sunshine. “Can I ask you something?”

Donghyuck shrugged, getting more nervous by the second but desperately attempting to play it off. “Yeah, shoot.”

“No,” Mark said. “It’s something big. And I don’t want you to get upset about it, so, like, if you say no to it, don’t feel bad. I’ll understand.”

Pushing his hair out of his face, feeling extra hot now that he was nervous, he shrugged again. “Just ask it.”

“Okay. Uh, okay. Well.”

“Well…” Donghyuck urged, voice rising in pitch.

“Donghyuck, can I kiss you?” Mark spat out, looking absolutely terrified of what he had dared to say.

Donghyuck took a moment to process that, thinking maybe the sun had started to cause auditory hallucinations. At this point, his heart was pounding enough to be heard in his ears, and he was worried that he was going to be the one at the hospital in about a minute.

“Okay, wait,” Donghyuck said, attempting to grasp the situation. “Can you ask again just to make sure I heard you correctly?”

“Lee Donghyuck. Can I please kiss you?” Mark repeated, this time stronger, as if saying it once had somehow made it easier to say.

Slowly, Donghyuck nodded, all of his senses causing a complete buzz, which he swore meant that he was going to pass out. “Yes. Yes, you can kiss me,” he managed to say.

Almost appearing shaky, Mark inched forward, gingerly cupping Donghyuck’s face in his hands. Ever so gently, as if he didn’t want to break him, he guided Donghyuck towards him, slowly closing the space between them as he brought their lips together. It was soft and sweet, and Donghyuck could taste mint chocolate chip on Mark’s lips, and all he could think was that he’d remember that taste forever. The taste of his first kiss.

It was a simple peck, only lasting a second, and before Donghyuck could even understand how or why this was happening, Mark’s lips were no longer on his own. Mark pulled away, dropping his hands for a moment as the two of them stared at each other in silence, both turning equal parts red.

“Hyung,” Donghyuck finally said, voice oozing with affection. “Can you kiss me again?”

Mark nodded, disbelief on his face as he pulled Donghyuck in once more, this time with more confidence. As soon as they made contact, Mark’s lips moved strongly against his own, a newfound urgency within him, a newfound purpose. Donghyuck’s hands found their way to Mark’s skin, placed on his neck, and Mark reciprocated the touch, gently rubbing his thumb against Donghyuck’s jawline. Donghyuck’s mind was completely free of thought as their lips met again and again, not even attempting to decipher what it all meant and how they had gotten to this point, losing any cognition that could attempt to explain the reasoning behind Mark kissing him.

After a minute that had almost gone in slow motion, Mark hesitantly separated from Donghyuck, looking as dazed as Donghyuck felt. “Wow” was all he said.

“Why… what was that for?” Donghyuck stammered.

“It was… well, it was for you, being the best person I know, Donghyuck,” he replied, cheeks cherry red.

Donghyuck almost had to laugh at how truly unbelievable Mark was. “So that’s all? It was a ‘you’re the best pal ever’ kiss?”

“No. No, not at all,” Mark giggled, nervously fiddling with his hands.

“So, it was an ‘I like you’ kiss? Because I’d much rather it be that,” Donghyuck teased.

“Yes, Donghyuck,” he replied, looking up at him again. “I like you, so much. I don’t know when it happened, honestly. I think it started from the first time we met, and it never stopped growing. Especially when I heard you sing that very first time.” Donghyuck couldn’t fathom it, couldn’t make sense of it all, but he was so inexplicably happy to hear it. “When everything happened on Valentine’s Day, I was too stupid to realize you liked me and too confused to realize I liked you… so I’m trying my hardest to make up for it now.”

“So you decided to take me here just to pull the moves on me? Greasy, Mark hyung.” He was beaming from ear to ear, because he was Lee Donghyuck, and he wouldn’t let Mark be satisfied with an “I like you, too” so easily.

Mark grinned, some of the tension he had been harboring appearing to melt away. “Donghyuck, this is the cutest ice cream place within a 100 mile radius. Greasy isn’t exactly the right term.”

“Oh, yes, it is,” Donghyuck protested. “You took me here, and the whole time that’s what you were thinking about. And you expected me to kiss back! That is greasy!” He had to stifle his own giggles.

“Well, a little bird told me you wouldn’t be opposed,” Mark said shyly. “Although I didn’t believe him, but I figured I’d try it anyway or else he might kill me.”

Donghyuck let his laughter bubble out. “Huang Renjun.”

Mark’s eyes sparkled, and Donghyuck was completely enamored as he watched him. “Yup. Huang Renjun,” he replied.

“So,” Mark said. “You like me, then?”

“Yes, dipshit!” he exclaimed. “Of course I like you. I don’t just kiss anyone, you know.”

Mark looked at him so lovingly, with a gaze that was practically dripping in honey, and it made Donghyuck’s heart feel like it would burst. “I like you, Lee Donghyuck,” he said for the second time, and Donghyuck’s head was spinning. “You are just… you are so much sweeter than you know.”

“You called me a little devil a few minutes ago, if I remember correctly,” Donghyuck retorted, but he couldn’t play hard to get much longer. His tone softened when he spoke again. “But, you know, I was never really sweet to anyone until you came along and forced a candy bar upon me.”

Mark smiled, and Donghyuck swore it told something of pride, of wonder. “No, you’ve always been sweet. You were sweet before that too.”

—

After everything that school year held, all the things that Donghyuck had no way of ever even beginning to expect, all the things that changed him in more ways than he even realized, the last day of school felt like a release, more than it usually does. Finals were over, the stresses he had faced all year had passed, and summer had arrived. Donghyuck was happy, not simply okay or alright. He was happy.

Mark and Donghyuck decided that school ending called for a purge of all the things they no longer needed, all the notebooks and papers and items that they didn’t even know were floating around in their backpacks anymore. When the final bell rang, they set off for Mark’s house, their only real plan for the day being to keep each other company on Mark’s bedroom floor.

“It’s hot,” Donghyuck whined, moving the fan so it was sitting right in front of him. “Like, to the point of being sticky.”

Mark laughed, pulling old, crumpled papers out of his bag and tossing them in the trash. “You know, for someone who apparently loves summer so much, you love to complain about the heat.”

“I like summer as a concept, hyung,” he protested. “I don’t like dying from the heat.”

Mark simply laughed once more, flashing the sweetest smile to Donghyuck, which (nearly) made him forget about how his room felt like a sauna, even with two fans going and the window open. Despite his complaints, it wasn’t as nearly as miserable as he was letting on, because time with Mark was never miserable.

Looking back to his bag, he pulled out his history notebook, edges slightly worn. It looked old and tired, which somehow was fitting because of how much he had hated Mrs. Choi’s class. He took a few seconds, flipping through the pages, halting to a stop when he saw something written in one of the margins.

It was his list, from so many months ago.

Get good grades
Graduate high school
Get the fuck out of this town

He read it over a few times, thinking it was ridiculous that he had thought coasting like that was an option. That he had thought making the most of his situation wasn't even a possibility.

“What’s that?” Mark asked when he noticed Donghyuck’s eyes lingering on the page.

“Nothing,” he said, flipping it shut. “Just my history notebook.”

Taking one final glance at the notebook, he tossed it into the trashcan with a thud. Donghyuck didn’t need that notebook, and he sure as hell didn’t need that list. He didn’t really have a plan anymore, because he felt like a plan limited all he was and all he could become. All he would become. He knew he wouldn’t stop aspiring to get good grades and graduate and get out, to go somewhere else and to grow. But that alone was autopilot, and Donghyuck didn’t want to run on autopilot anymore.

Slowly, their bags emptied, leaving behind only the essentials like pencil cases and actual textbooks, and the room fell still, stagnant. Donghyuck sat against the bed, and Mark followed suit.

In the short amount of time since they had openly established their feelings (and even in the time before that too), Donghyuck discovered that Mark showed affection in about a million odd ways. Today, that way was clingy, and Donghyuck would never say it, but that was his favorite. Sitting on the floor, Mark sat by Donghyuck’s side even in the heat, and there was no room for Donghyuck to complain as Mark idly played with Donghyuck’s hair and peppered kisses on his face at any chance he could get.

“You know,” he said between soft pecks on the corner of Donghyuck’s mouth. “I read that astrology book cover to cover more times than I could count when we weren’t talking.”

Donghyuck had forgotten about it, truthfully — probably part of his motivated forgetting from the Valentine’s Day ordeal — and his stomach nearly dropped at the mention. He smiled sheepishly, turning towards Mark, who took it as an opportunity to place a kiss straight on his lips.

“Oh, really?” Donghyuck asked as Mark’s fingers twirled through his hair. “Did you learn anything interesting?”

“Mhm,” he hummed, introspective. “I learned that I’m fire, and you’re air.”

A smile formed on Donghyuck’s lips, and drowsily, he reached out, his hand tracing the edges of Mark’s face. “And what’s that mean?” Mark got shy at the sweet touch, eyes casting downwards, setting his eyelashes against his skin.

“Well,” he started, “fire needs air to survive, Hyuck.”

“You don’t need me to survive,” Donghyuck said with a chuckle, and Mark looked back up at him, awe filling his eyes.

Mark shook his head softly against Donghyuck’s hand. “Yeah, you’re right, I guess that’s dramatic.”

“A little bit,” Donghyuck laughed breathily.

Mark thought about it for a moment, and finally, he spoke again.

“But when you weren’t around, I don’t think I had a spark,” he admitted timidly. “You made me have a spark.”

Donghyuck could’ve said or done many things in that moment, but instead, he simply nodded, because he knew just what he meant. They were opposites, threatening to burn things down at any moment if the flame lost control, but they had found a balance.

Mark made Donghyuck burn, and Donghyuck kept Mark bright.

Notes:

FINALLY!!! IT IS DONE!!! i've been working on this for nearly two months and i thought it would never end but here it is. finally done.... all i knew when i started writing this is that it would be "at least 20k" and it was safe to say that was a huge underestimate :o
if you manage to make it through this huge thing in its entirety, you are truly a blessing and i hope you enjoyed!!
any feedback, as always, is highly appreciated ♡♡
[title is inspired by lyrics from vixx's "shangri-la"]

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