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Mark can never say no to a challenge. He’s always been a competitive kid, and something about Lee Donghyuck really edges the annoyance out of him.
Donghyuck’s been known as the neighborhood menace since fourth grade, when he’d decided that Mark was either going to fall in love with him or fall in love with no one and proceeded to pelt Mark’s first crush with water balloons. Which would be fine if Mark hadn’t been in fifth grade and Seulgi noona from next door a high school student.
(Of course, he learns later that Seulgi noona had a boyfriend the whole time, and, being sixteen whereas Mark is ten, she really is not interested in his prepubescent scrawny self).
But since then, Donghyuck’s name has become synonymous with trouble in their neighborhood, the aunties at the end of the road warning their daughters to stay away from him, and by extension, from Mark.
It’s fine, though. Mark never wanted to be friends with them anyways, and he definitely doesn’t like Seulgi anymore.
He and Donghyuck have been friends forever, but they’re not really friends. Mark has friends at school, ones his own age, and so does Donghyuck. They don’t do much more than nod at each other when they see each other in the halls, but the secret sense of camaraderie is still present, and it makes Mark warm inside. They’re neighborhood friends, reserving their time for lazy afternoons when they have nothing else to do but hang out with each other.
To him, Donghyuck is a permanent. He’d been there, playing on his bike when Mark and his edgy middle school friends had snuck a stale pack of cigarettes from one of their parents, and Donghyuck had laughed so loud it had echoed down the street when Mark winds up having a coughing fit over the first drag. He’d been there when Mark’s first boyfriend breaks up with him, resulting in a shouting match on his lawn in the middle of the night that had awoken his parents and brother and probably half the neighborhood. Afterwards, when Mark sits on the curb and cries, Donghyuck sneaks out of his house and tosses him a sweater, saying nonchalantly, “you know, hyung, I never liked him anyways.”
Donghyuck is for Saturday mornings after sleepovers he’d never admit he enjoys and summer afternoons sitting on sun warmed sidewalks, sugary sweet ice cream melting in their mouths and down their fingers. Donghyuck is childhood and adolescence, and eventually, they grow up.
They’ve seen each other less and less, as Mark finds himself preparing for graduation, caught up in the chaotic mess of his last year of high school, while Donghyuck is busy with a million exams and a whole year to go.
In fact, Mark realizes he can’t remember the last time they’ve hung out, just the two of them. Ever since he’d gotten his license, he’s only been going out with his friends his own age and Donghyuck’s been hanging out with Jeno and Jaemin, who are both in his year.
That’s probably why it’s so surprising that Donghyuck is standing on his front porch on the first day of spring break, his jeans three times more torn up and tighter than Mark remembers him ever wearing, his hair dyed a burnished orange that nearly gives Mark’s mother a heart attack when she answers the door, and he looks so very different than the weird kid Mark’s lived next door to his whole life.
Before Mark can comment on how long it’s been or his hair, Donghyuck holds up a hand and says, “I need a favor from you.”
Well. Okay, then.
Mark leans his hip against the doorframe, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Donghyuck is his childhood best friend, but also (by default, because Jeno and Jaemin hadn’t moved in yet and Jisung had been too young) his rival. He can’t help but want to one-up him. “What kind of favor?”
“I need you to teach me how to skate.” Donghyuck is practically bouncing on the balls of his feet like he always does when he’s excited, and Mark had nearly forgotten how cute that particular habit is.
“…Why?” he asks, slightly wary. Donghyuck’s ideas don’t usually tend to end well, and the ones that do end up getting both of them in hot water later.
“It’s really important, okay?” Donghyuck says impatiently, slapping his hand several times against Mark’s doorframe. “Can you help me or not?”
“Not.” Mark neatly goes to close the door, but Donghyuck wedges a foot inside before he can, throwing his body against it.
“Hyung,” Donghyuck whines, “It’s really important. You know you’re the best skateboarder in the neighborhood. Jeno only bought his to impress Jaemin and Jisung would never agree to teach me. I need you.”
Mark has a million things to do this spring break. It’s the last one he has to spend with his friends in his year, but Donghyuck gives him a sly look, and says softly, “Unless you can’t because you’re too old for that now. I guess Jisung’s the new Skateboarding King of the neighborhood after all.”
God damn it. Mark feels the urge to give in rise up inside him, overtaking his apathy. Mark’s been Skateboarding King since he was twelve years old, and he’s not going to lose his title to some abnormally coordinated unfairly tall weirdo like Jisung.
“Fine.” Mark says through grit teeth, “But only if you can learn within this break. As soon as spring break ends, I’m going to be too busy again to teach you anymore.”
Donghyuck grins, and Mark remembers that, oh yeah, Donghyuck’s smile is so radiant that it could rival the sun.
He has a bad feeling about this.
-
The first time is hard asphalt and scraped up knees, crocodile tears that Donghyuck stubbornly refuses to let fall. Mark is concerned until Donghyuck sets his face with determination and demands, “Again!”
As much as Mark likes seeing Donghyuck struggle with anything, he knows that the neighborhood aunties are watching from their lawn chairs down the road and they will undoubtedly gossip to his mother about how Mark had stood and watched as poor Donghyuck ate curb over and over.
So the next time Donghyuck stands up, Mark says, “Just try standing on it. I’ll pull you along and we can go from there.”
Donghyuck squints at him, which is dumb because the sun is positioned to be in Mark’s eyes, so he whacks Donghyuck and says loftily, “Don’t make faces. I’m wasting my valuable time on you, you should be more grateful.”
“Oh, great skating god Mark Lee, I will sacrifice my firstborn child to you if you teach me to skate,” Donghyuck rolls his eyes and shoves a hand out. Mark notices absently that the heel of his palm is all torn up from the sidewalk and bleeding freely.
“Doesn’t that sting?” He wonders, taking Donghyuck’s fingers, careful not to brush the injury.
Donghyuck shrugs, pointing with his other hand down to his legs. “Not compared to these.”
Donghyuck’s already got half a dozen pale pink bandages on his tan legs from earlier in the week, and Mark wonders how much time he’d spent trying to practice this by himself before giving in and asking Mark.
“Clumsy,” Mark comments, and Donghyuck just hums in response. They both know it’s true. Mark remembers the time he’d climbed up one of the trees in his backyard at the age of seven, slender limbs maneuvering through the branches with ease. He also remembers six year old Donghyuck insisting on following him up, only to fall from his unsteady perch seconds later.
(Mark had been convinced for three whole minutes that he’d actually died, he’d laid on the ground in a heap for so long before bouncing back up with a grin on his tiny face, and Mark’s heart had restarted with a thump.)
Donghyuck grabs Mark’s hand tighter, and Mark can tell how nervous he is from the clamminess of his palm. He steps up onto the board carefully this time, his grip on Mark momentarily tightening in fear before he finds his balance.
Mark takes his other hand, and Donghyuck lets out a low, nervous laugh. “You’re only holding my hands so that I can’t catch myself when I fall, right?” He jokes, but his eyes dart to Mark’s face just in case.
“You’ve figured it out,” Mark grins, “I’m going to attempt murder in Jaemin’s grandma’s driveway.”
Donghyuck says gravely, “Only one of the many crimes committed on her property. Others include allowing Na Jaemin to leave the house and those ugly Christmas decorations she had last year.”
Mark snorts, then glances down between them. “Are we going to start, or do you just want to keep holding hands in the middle of the street?”
Donghyuck makes a long contemplating noise but holds onto Mark’s hands firmly. He takes a deep breath, and nods.
Mark takes a step back, and pulls Donghyuck along on the skateboard, and Donghyuck tries his best to hang on, his teeth grit in concentration.
“It’s really not that bad once you find your balance.” Mark says, carefully untangling one of their hands. He continues pulling, careful not to do anything to upset Donghyuck’s shaky stance on the board. Donghyuck bites his lip hard, looking up to meet his eyes. He looks like he wants to say something, and Mark feels frozen by the intensity of the emotion shining in his pupils.
Then, Mark’s heel hits the curb and he falls straight down on his ass, Donghyuck landing on top of him with a cry of pain, and the moment is broken.
-
The third day of break is better. Mark makes sure to pay attention to where he’s walking and Donghyuck holds on tightly to his hands, cautious after the first day’s mistake.
This time, he looks more annoyed than scared. He’s added a bunch of baby blue bandages to the scrapes from the previous day, and Mark hopes for both their sakes that no more falls occur. He’d caught Donghyuck’s forearm in his ribs the day before, and now there’s an elbow-shaped bruise forming just under his ribcage. He just hopes that it fades by the end of break, so no one makes fun of him for it in the locker room before basketball practice.
“Maybe I should have asked Jisung.” Donghyuck mutters, but Mark narrows his eyes at him and he snaps his mouth shut, eyes wide and guileless.
“If you mention Jisung one more time I’m telling Jeno’s dad it was you who decided to hide that bong at their house.”
“Hey,” Donghyuck complains, “That was a mutual decision and you know it.”
Mark mimes letting go of both of Donghyuck’s hands, and the younger boy squeaks, holds onto him twice as tight. Despite himself, Mark grins.
(They wind up making much more progress this time. Donghyuck gets to the point of being able to stand on the board by himself, and even manages to push himself for about three feet before he wipes out, adding his elbows to the long list of scraped up body parts.)
-
The fourth day of spring break, it’s freakishly hot outside.
Mark’s dressed in shorts and a loose shirt, but he switches it out for a sleeveless one as soon as he realizes how hard the sun’s beating down.
“Wow,” Donghyuck teases when he returns from his house, dressed down. “Have you been working out? The basketball team’s doing your noodle arms some good.”
Mark instinctively flexes his arms. They’re definitely not as skinny as before, but they’re nowhere near as impressive as say, Jaehyun’s. The other guys on the basketball team have him beat by a longshot, and they both know it.
“Shut up,” Mark says instead, “Why don’t you have your board?”
“It’s too hot,” Donghyuck cries melodramatically, throwing a hand over his eyes as if to shade them from the sun, “Don’t you know that I can’t function in this heat without ice cream?”
“Dude, I don’t even know if the ice cream truck comes around anymore.”
When they’d been younger, every summer, a beat up old ice cream truck had come rumbling through the streets, chiming its obnoxious song, a temptress for every neighborhood kid. It had stopped at the intersection between Donghyuck and Jisung’s houses, and Mark and Donghyuck had collected quarters every week to be able to afford ice pops every Friday.
“Dude, you have a car.” Donghyuck mimics, his voice pitching lower like Mark’s.
Oh shit. He does have a car.
Messing around with Donghyuck in the street makes him feel like a kid again sometimes, and the added fact that he has no homework over the break only amplifies the feeling.
So, Mark goes and grabs his keys and Donghyuck ducks inside to snatch his wallet, and they meet back at Mark’s beat up secondhand car. It’s shitty and the air conditioning doesn’t work, but it’s his baby.
Donghyuck turns up the stereo all the way, shouting more than singing along to trashy pop songs (if Mark has to listen to Havana one more time, he’s going to go out of his mind) and pushes the seat back all the way, kicks his tanned legs up onto the dash.
“That’s dangerous.” Mark informs him over the roar of the wind. They’d cranked the windows down all the way to make up for the lack of aircon, and it makes Mark’s hair whip all about his face.
“So is your face,” Donghyuck replies, picking Mark’s sunglasses up from the cupholders between them and slipping them over his eyes. “But I still look at you.”
Mark figures they’re staying close enough to their houses and that the streets are empty enough that Donghyuck is not in any immediate danger, so he slaps Donghyuck’s thigh hard and lets it go.
Donghyuck grins, and Mark has a bad feeling even before he opens his mouth.
“Hit me harder,” Donghyuck says with the loudest, most obnoxiously obscene moan Mark has ever heard in his life. And Mark’s an eighteen year old boy.
“Get out of my car.” Mark deadpans, pointing a hand to the door (only after making sure the door is locked, because he’ll never forget the time Donghyuck actually opened the door in the middle of going somewhere. Yeah, it was at a red light, so the car wasn’t actually moving, but it still made Mark’s heart jump in his chest with fear.)
Donghyuck rolls his eyes. “I’m sure you’ve heard worse from that guy you were dating earlier this year.”
“Well, if he sounds like that, I’m glad we broke up.” Mark says, a laugh slipping out before he can help himself.
Donghyuck gets a very odd look on his face then, but Mark is too busy trying to focus on the road to catch it fully. By the time he parallel parks on the street in front of the local convenience store, Donghyuck’s back to making dumb faces at himself in the mirror on the sun visor.
They grab individual ice creams from the little freezer chest near the register, and Donghyuck strikes up a conversation with the boy behind the counter. Mark swears he’s never seen him in his life, but Donghyuck hisses, “You had like, three classes with him last semester. His name is Renjun, remember?”
Renjun rings them up with a sweet smile, and as he hands over their bag, says, “Oh Mark, I was at the last basketball game! You did really well!”
Mark blinks. “You were?”
Quickly, Donghyuck takes the bag and interjects, “Really? I thought he played pretty poorly compared to everyone else.”
With the crisis averted, Donghyuck finishes up his small talk quickly and guides Mark out of the store.
“You don’t know how to treat your many adoring fans,” Donghyuck sighs as soon as the store door swings shut behind them. “They’re all going to abandon you for Jisung when he gets old enough to join the team.”
“Stop comparing me to Jisung.” Mark whines, “He’s like, literally twelve.”
“Dude… he’s sixteen.”
Mark stops short. “Seriously?”
Donghyuck shakes his head, mirth already overtaking his features. “You’re seriously an idiot, Mark Lee. Come on, lets get back before this melts.” He pointedly shakes the bag in his hand, then takes off running to Mark’s car.
Mark stares after him, wondering just how preoccupied he’d been with school and basketball to forget something like that, and when Donghyuck turns around, calls out impatiently to him, he slowly follows.
(The fourth day of break passes like this; Donghyuck and Mark laying in the grass, ice cream melting in their mouths, and Mark absently licks a patch of ice cream off Donghyuck’s sticky fingers when he reaches over Mark’s face to brush a crumb from the cone off his cheek. Donghyuck blushes, yanks his hand back with an exaggerated scream, and Mark laughs until his sides hurt.)
-
For someone who’s been tripping over his own feet every time he’s within twenty feet of a skateboard, Donghyuck is suddenly miraculously good at staying on.
Mark narrows his eyes in suspicion at the younger boy. “You’ve been getting lessons from Jisung, haven’t you?”
Donghyuck widens his eyes as if it’s going to make him look less guilty (it does, but Mark isn’t most people. He’s become immune after all this time,) and says “I just asked him for some pointers. He didn’t even say anything substantial.”
“I’m the Skating King,” Mark whines, “I could probably skate circles around Jisung’s amateur ass if I wanted.”
“Be careful not to break your hip, old man.” Donghyuck mutters under his breath, and stares petulantly down at his feet when Mark shoots him a glare. “Besides, I can’t do anything except stay on, so chill out. No one’s stealing your thunder.”
Mark spends the day teaching Donghyuck how to ride the board for elongated periods of time, and Donghyuck only falls twice, getting up both times with his brows scrunched together in concentration, quickly fixing his mistakes.
It takes him by surprise, how committed Donghyuck seems to be about this. Mark still has no clue why exactly Donghyuck is so determined to learn how to skate, but (although he’d never admit it out loud) it’s nice having an excuse to hang out again. Donghyuck had been his first and best friend for so long, it’s easy falling back into routine.
Today’s different though, because they have an audience other than the usual little kids and old ladies who never mind their own business. Jaemin’s visiting his grandmother for the rest of the week, and he sets himself up on the curb, eager to watch Donghyuck wipe the fuck out. Upon seeing him, Jisung ventures out of his house for the first time in what is probably months.
(“He’s going through that weird reclusive phase,” Donghyuck stage whispers to Mark when he asks when Jisung had gotten so tall, “His mom says he wanders around the house at night and stays in his room during the day.” Jisung punches him in the arm in a way meant to be light, but the younger boy is so big that Donghyuck goes sprawling in the grass.)
Jaemin invites everyone to stay over because they wind up abandoning the skateboard and hang out until the sun bleeds orange in the sky, and Mark runs over to grab his stuff. They haven’t had a neighborhood sleepover like this in ages.
When he knocks on Jaemin’s door, Donghyuck answers it, Jeno appearing behind him.
They build a long continuous bed in the living room by piling blankets and pillows on top of Jaemin’s grandmother’s thick carpet, and when Mark claims a spot at the corner, they decline profusely and insist he sleeps in the middle.
At first, they joke around, poking fun of Mark’s pretentious older friends and his scramble to take college admission exams. They call it the reason for his disappearance.
In the early hours of the morning though, when Mark’s close to falling asleep, someone’s fingers under the small of his back, someone else’s leg tangled with his, Jisung says quietly, “We haven’t done this in a long time.”
They’d all gone and grown up before they’d realized it. Mark’s heart pangs unexpectedly, longing for days spent climbing trees and nights catching lightning bugs, for sneaking out at night to watch a meteor shower, for friendship.
“You never hang out anymore, Mark hyung,” Jaemin complains, but the smile on his face is good natured when Mark turns to his left and finds the younger boy there. “And now you’re graduating, and you’ll probably never sleep over again because you’ll be busy all the time.”
The hand under the small of his back clenches, and Mark turns his head to the other side, finds Donghyuck curled up on his side. His eyes are open, and he stares quietly at Mark. For a minute, they hold eye contact, and there’s something itching in the furthest corners of Mark’s brain, something that makes him distinctly uncomfortable.
He turns away, back to the ceiling. “I’d make time for you guys. You guys are my family.”
Donghyuck’s hand shifts, and Mark arches his back a little to let him pull it out from under him.
Unexpectedly, he feels it curl into the side of his shirt, holding fast to the material. Mark says nothing.
-
It takes another day for Donghyuck to get good enough to be able to skate long distances.
When he finally manages to stay on the board for a whole block, he leaps off and tackles Mark into a hug that knocks them both into Seulgi’s mother’s garden, and Mark is forced to ring the doorbell and inform her of the unfortunate fate of her tomato plant.
Her eyes immediately zero in on Donghyuck standing awkwardly on the sidewalk in front of the house and she says, “Ah, I see.”
Thankfully, she likes Mark, so she’s willing to let it go after he apologizes profusely. “You’re a good kid, Mark,” she says with a smile, “I don’t know how you always wind up mixed up in these things.”
Another pointed glance at Donghyuck tells Mark that she thinks she knows exactly how he gets mixed up in these things. A flash of annoyance runs through him, followed by the emergence of his protective streak.
He glances back at Donghyuck, who shifts from foot to foot, then bends down to fix one of the pastel bandages plastered to his knees. Mark squeezes his lips together hard, forces a smile that presents itself as more of a grimace, and says, “Thanks, but I think like calls to like, if you know what I mean.”
Seulgi’s mother raises an eyebrow in surprise like, the neighborhood golden child Mark Lee? Talking back to an adult? What parallel universe is this?
Mark waves then, then retreats. Seulgi’s mom sends one last odd look after him, and shuts the door.
On the sidewalk, Donghyuck is kneeling, clumsily tying his shoes with his bandage covered fingers. Mark watches him struggle for a minute, then bends down, knocking his hands away to do it himself.
“How’d you fuck up your hands?” he asks, cleanly tying the laces.
“I fell off my bike last night when I went to the convenience store to buy eggs for my mom.” Donghyuck looks pointedly anywhere except for Mark kneeling on the ground in front of him.
“I know you’re an idiot so it’s hard for you, but be careful next time.” Mark teases, pausing to push a bandage flat against Donghyuck’s thigh before he rises to his feet again.
Donghyuck frowns. “It’s not my fault, I had a growth spurt recently.”
“Dude, you’re seventeen. I’m pretty sure you’re done growing.”
“And admit defeat to you? Nah, I’m definitely going to wind up taller than you.” Donghyuck stands on his tiptoes, trying to compare but Mark grabs his shoulders, pushes him back down with a laugh.
Donghyuck looks up, his eyes still shining with mirth, and suddenly Mark realizes how they must look to anyone else. His hands are braced on Donghyuck’s shoulders, and they’re standing very close together, staring into each other’s eyes. Donghyuck licks his plump lips instinctively, and Mark finds his eyes drawn to them.
He blushes. His ears feel hot, and he’s sure they’re red like they always get when he’s embarrassed.
“Wow,” a coy voice interrupts them, and suddenly the moment is broken.
Mark’s hands slide off Donghyuck’s shoulders, and Donghyuck turns to face the speaker. Jaemin sits on his bike, Jisung shoved very uncomfortably into the basket, his long limbs overflowing.
“Don’t let us interrupt,” Jaemin continues, a grin lighting up his face. Mark flushes even warmer.
“Jisung looks like he’s going to die in there, Nana.” Donghyuck says smoothly changing the subject.
From the basket, Jisung raises a hand and says, “I’m fine!”
“Listen,” Jaemin says with a loud sigh, “I’m going to baby Jisung until the day he grows taller than me, and that day hasn’t come yet, so let me enjoy the little time I have left with my son until he becomes more powerful than me.”
Jisung pipes up again, “You know, I think I had a growth spurt last week. Maybe we should m-“
Jaemin interrupts loudly, “Shhh, I said you are my baby, and that’s final. Don’t forget who let you play in that treehouse with us when we were ten.”
Mark remembers that treehouse. It had been tiny and shabby, but at the age of ten, they’d all been small enough to fit inside comfortably enough. They’d spent countless days up there calling Jisung too young to come up, swapping candy and comics. When Mark had been thirteen, a storm had nearly uprooted the tree with the house built onto it, and they’d had to disassemble it for safety reasons.
“You guys wanna run into town with me and Jeno to get lunch?” Jaemin asks, breaking Mark out of his thoughts. “Staying out in the sun for so long every day can’t be good for you.”
They do wind up getting lunch, although it’s Mark who drives them into town, and they roll the windows down all the way, and Mark tries his best to drive while four other voices scream in his ears.
Donghyuck, naturally, gets shotgun, and spends the ride singing along to the radio, Mark’s sunglasses pulled over his eyes again. Once, Mark catches him staring, and they share a shy smile that makes Mark feel warm all the way down to his fingertips, and not from the weather.
-
Mark wakes up on the seventh day of spring break to dark storm clouds blocking the late morning sun.
One glance outside tells him that a spring storm is about to hit any second, the pregnant clouds thick and heavy, hanging over their neighborhood in their menacing way.
He always becomes lethargic on days like this, his motivation to do anything depleted as a reflection of the weather. It takes all his willpower to drag himself from the comfort of his bed, and by the time he finishes showering, he’s already exhausted. He can’t even bother to get dressed properly, just throwing on a pair of sweatpants. He seriously considers lying around in bed all day until a loud crash of thunder interrupts his thoughts, startling him out of his stupor.
In a flash, rain begins beating down in sheets of water on the windows, distorting everything outside until it’s just a big kaleidoscope of color. Mark sits on his bed, his hands against the cool glass, and watches the rain fall until his eyes discern a small shape moving in his peripherals. It darts towards his house, a blur against the watery glass.
Whatever it is, it’s bright red. Mark has an awful feeling that he knows exactly what it is.
He runs downstairs, opens his door right as the person knocks.
Donghyuck stands on his doorstep, soaked to the bone, orange hair darkened to brown, his inextinguishable grin lighting up his face. “Hi,” he says, “You’re not wearing a shirt.”
Mark looks down, half surprised at his own nakedness. “I’m not,” he agrees, then observes, “You’re going to freeze to death in those.”
Donghyuck shoves past him into the house, trailing in water behind him. Mark’s mom is going to chew him out for it later, but she’s at work now, so he lets it slide, reminding himself to grab a towel when he goes upstairs to get a shirt.
“Can I get some clothes?”
“Hyuck, you live two houses down.”
Donghyuck pouts, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “I ran all the way here in the rain. Who knows what’ll happen if I try to run back in the middle of this dangerous storm?”
“Maybe you’ll die and I’ll finally be rid of your ass.” Mark snarks, but grabs his hand, pulling him upstairs as quickly as he can to minimize the damage to his mother’s floor.
He tosses Donghyuck a towel along with his basketball team hoodie and a pair of sweats, then goes to clean up the water he’d trailed in.
As he finishes wiping up the last of it, Donghyuck emerges, the hood pulled up over his towel-dried, fluffy hair.
Mark says, “You know, I was going to take a nap before you came over.”
Donghyuck says, “You’re still not wearing a shirt.”
Mark glances down self-consciously. He’s more on the slender side, built nowhere as thick as Jaehyun or any of the other guys on the team. He resists the urge to cover himself. He grabs a shirt anyways, pulling it over his head. When he turns around, Donghyuck’s still staring. Mark looks down, suddenly too shy to meet his eyes. He and Donghyuck used to take baths together as kids, for god’s sake, he shouldn’t be this embarrassed.
They settle on the couch to find something to watch, and are halfway through a cartoon neither of them are very interested in when the power finally blows, engulfing them in darkness.
“Shit,” Mark says. It’s unwanted, but not exactly unexpected. The storm is still raging on without any sign of stopping, lightning flashing to light up their faces every now and then, thunder rumbling close by. “What do we do now?”
Donghyuck stays silent for a very long time, and Mark bites his lip, staring at him in the grey-washed weak light that filters through the curtains. “We could just go take a nap.” Donghyuck says finally, voice shaking a tiny bit from uncertainty. “Since that’s what you wanted to do anyways.”
Mark’s bed had barely been big enough to fit both of them when they’d been kids, but they manage to squeeze in now, their limbs tangling together until they find a position that’s comfortable.
Another flash of lightning shoots through the sky, and it lights up Donghyuck’s face. He looks solemn for once, eyes quiet in a way they never usually are. They’re pressed so close, when Donghyuck lets out a shaky exhale, Mark feels his ribcage fall.
“I’m glad we spent so much time together this break.” Donghyuck whispers. “Especially because you’re leaving soon.” Mark reads between the lines to find what hadn’t been said aloud. I’m going to miss you.
Mark murmurs back, “You know I’ll always come back to visit you guys at the end of the semester.” Mark hopes Donghyuck is reading between the lines, because what he means is I’ll always come back to you.
Then, Donghyuck turns away, burying his face in Mark’s neck. Mark flinches minutely when his warm breath caresses the sensitive skin but keeps still. He doesn’t want Donghyuck to pull away.
(Mark’s mother finds them all curled up like that when she gets home, takes a picture of them sleeping for her photo album, slides the photo in next to a similar one of them when they’d been six.)
-
The second to last day of spring break hits Mark like a ton of bricks.
In some ways, it still feels like the first day. In others, it feels like this short week has lasted a lifetime.
The sky’s cleared up, though the asphalt outside is still wet. Mark goes running in the morning, the scent of spring in the clean air. The air’s still humid from yesterday’s rain, and Mark’s shirt is soaked through with sweat by the time he returns to the front of his house.
He spots Jisung and Jeno in front of Jeno’s house across the street. He waves to them, and they call back, “Good luck today!”
It’s an odd thing to say, but Mark shrugs off his confusion and calls back, “You guys too!”
He takes a quick shower and settles in to read all the texts he’d missed on the basketball team group chat (mostly memes from Jaehyun that no one wants to respond to, followed by a text scheduling practice once they’re back in school from the team captain).
In the midst of Jaehyun’s dumb memes, a knock comes at the door, loud and demanding.
Mark reluctantly pulls himself away from his phone and answers the door. What he finds on the other side is quite a sight to behold.
Donghyuck is standing there, skateboard under his arm, a bouquet of flowers in the other. Behind him, Mark spots Jaemin, Jisung, and Jeno hiding very poorly behind the tree in his yard. Mark says, “Uhhh…hey?”
Donghyuck’s face is flushed, like he’d run all the way over. He looks Mark in the eye and takes a deep breath. Even before he speaks, Mark’s heart thuds unevenly in his chest, predicting what is to come. That doesn’t change the fact that the words take him by surprise, however.
“Mark Lee,” Donghyuck says, “I challenge you to a skateboarding race. If you decline, your title as Skateboarding King will be stripped away and you will be shamed by this neighborhood forever. If you win, you carry on. But…” he hesitates, voice faltering.
Mark’s breath hitches. “If you win?” he presses gently.
“If I win, you…you have to take me on a date to the amusement park.” Donghyuck is blushing, the deep color lovely against the tan of his skin. He says, “You do accept the challenge?”
Behind him, Jeno is leaning away from the trunk of the tree to eavesdrop better, even further away from their three friends, the old aunties down the street are watching, their curiosity obvious even from this distance.
Mark looks Donghyuck up and down; his bandage covered skin, his fluffy disheveled hair, and finally, the bright determination twinkling in his eyes. Perhaps this is what he’d been seeking all along.
He says, “I accept.”
-
The race is this; Wind rushing through his hair, the friction of the skateboard wheels against the asphalt. It is Mark, purposely slow as he skates down the street from one stop sign to the other. It is Donghyuck stumbling twice, but never falling. It is Donghyuck winning, and Jaemin, Jeno, and Jisung erupting into cheers, engulfing them in a hug that lasts so long, Mark thinks he’s going to have permanent hearing damage from all the screaming.
Donghyuck runs to pick up the flowers he’d left in the grass, shoves them to Mark’s chest, and Mark says, “I’m allergic to tulips.”
Donghyuck tackles him in a hug so hard that they nearly fall over, and it’s only because Mark is ready for it this time that they stay on their feet, clinging to each other, hearts pounding in their chests, full of a new feeling that blossoms with the season.
-
The last day of spring break brings Donghyuck dressed in his tight, torn up jeans again, this time paired with Mark’s basketball windbreaker.
“It looks better on me.” Donghyuck says cheekily, and Mark finds that he agrees.
Mark takes them to the amusement park on the other side of town, and Donghyuck sits with his legs down for once, because their destination is further and he has to take the highway.
Jaemin, Jeno, and Jisung tag along, just because they like the park (they swear solemnly that they won’t follow Mark and Donghyuck around on their date, but Mark knows from the conspiring glances they share in the backseat that it’s a bald-faced lie.)
Once they’re at the park, they disperse amongst the crowds of people, Jisung immediately dragging Jaemin and Jeno along to the scariest rollercoaster, Jaemin shouting in excitement, Jeno looking nervously over at Mark as if searching for help. Mark shrugs, watches him be dragged away, and then says to Donghyuck, “He’s going to die.”
“We’ll hold the funeral in my backyard.” Donghyuck says solemnly, before a grin breaks out on his face. “Come on, win me a prize or something.”
“You could win me a prize,” Mark says, but he allows himself to be tugged towards the booths.
There turns out to be a basketball game, and Mark does, in fact, win Donghyuck a prize.
“I can’t believe my boyfriend is a jock.” Donghyuck teases, clutching the stuffed bear to him.
Mark rolls his eyes good naturedly and proceeds to drag Donghyuck on every ride that looks vaguely nauseating. Luckily, they’re both into the crazier rides (poor Jeno, Mark thinks briefly, praying for the other boy’s soul).
Finally, when they only have one ride left on their list, Donghyuck says, “Lets try and find Jaemin and everyone.”
What Mark wants is the very opposite of that. In fact, he’s been trying to work up the courage to get Donghyuck completely alone so he can kiss him all day, but they’ve been on ride after ride, and he can’t seem to find a chance.
But he doesn’t want to voice that just yet, so he nods, saying, “I think I saw them around the food stands.”
The make their way over to the food booths, and Donghyuck’s face lights up. At first, Mark thinks it’s because he’s spotted one of their friends, but then Donghyuck exclaims, “Buy me cotton candy!”
The man running the stand looks no older than them, his hair dyed light pink so it matches the cotton candy. Mark thinks it’s gimmicky.
Still, Donghyuck is enthusiastically pulling him towards the stand, and Mark pays for a cone so they can share. Donghyuck ends up eating most of it, because Mark’s not really a sweet tooth, but the smile Donghyuck gives him makes it worth it.
Finally, Donghyuck gives up on looking for Jaemin, Jeno, and Jisung, instead pointing to the last rollercoaster. “Let’s just ride it really fast before the park closes, and then we can find them.”
Mark agrees, and they stand in line for a while, and Donghyuck reaches down, slips their hands together. It makes Mark’s heart beat twice as fast in his chest and he presses his lips together hard, trying to keep the dumb grin off his face.
When they get on the ride, they sit in the very back (“Because the loops feel wilder this way!” Donghyuck insists) and pull the bar down over their laps.
The coaster pulls out slowly, rising up a tall curve. Mark and Donghyuck are still holding hands, and Mark rubs his hands over Donghyuck’s knuckles. There’s another bandage plastered there.
“What did you do to yourself?” he wonders.
Donghyuck gives him a sly grin. “Nothing. This time I just thought it looked cute.”
Before Mark can respond, Donghyuck leans closer, and, at the peak of the first incline, kisses Mark long and hard, his lips tasting like spun sugar, mouth soft against Mark’s.
The feeling in Mark’s stomach is akin to the drop of the rollercoaster.
-
Mark thinks growing up is strange.
Everything stays the same, yet everything is different.
The five of them don’t meet up as often as when they’d been children, but when they do, it’s like they’d never been apart in the first place.
Donghyuck is always just as obnoxious and joking and loveable, Jaemin is just as flirtatious, Jeno as sweet, and Jisung as witty. They change like the seasons, growing into themselves and each other, but at the end of every semester away, Mark comes home and finds the neighborhood like he’d left it.
It changes outwardly, as it always has. Seulgi’s family moves. Eventually, Jaemin’s family moves into his grandmother’s house to take care of her as her health takes a turn for the worse. Jeno’s parents divorce and his mother moves out. Jisung ends up dwarfing all of them, shooting up a whole head taller in the first semester Mark is gone.
Despite these, when Mark comes home for the winter, and snow blankets the neighborhood and it’s too cold for the gossiping aunties to sit outside anymore, Donghyuck greets him with the same radiant smile, says in his sweet voice, “Welcome home,” and Mark finds a piece of his childhood all over again.
They sleep over at Jeno’s house this time, and everyone piles on Mark, demanding stories from university and Mark indulges, tells them about the challenges and new discoveries he’s made since graduating.
“I can’t wait for you to see it.” Mark whispers to Donghyuck when everyone else is presumably asleep, the weak winter sun beginning to rise in the sky. Donghyuck’s acceptance had come earlier that month in the mail, much to their excitement. “You’re going to love it.”
“I love you,” Donghyuck mumbles back, his eyes half shut with sleep.
Mark carefully holds his chin, tilts his face up and kisses him. It’s a languid, slow kiss, like they have all the time in the world.
Jisung says quietly, “My eyes are closed and I can still tell what you’re doing. Stop.”
They all burst out into giggles then, Jaemin smacking Jisung’s arm and hissing, “Why would you ruin the moment? I wanted to know if Mark would say it back!”
Mark laughs out loud, says, “I love you too.”
Jisung makes a soft content noise, Jaemin cheers sleepily, and Jeno says, “That’s good, but I have track practice in four hours.”
Mark meets Donghyuck’s eyes, and they’re shining with all the feelings that have yet to be spilled between the two of them. Mark thinks they have the time for it, though. They can afford to take it slow.
They’ve left a part of their childhood behind, but they’ve swapped it for something even better.