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Donghyuck doesn’t know when things change, but he knows they most definitely did.
It must have been somewhere between their texts and their unofficially-official study dates over at their spot in Building 52.
Or all the drives on the way home just because they both live north of campus (though Donghyuck lives another five minutes further, it was never a problem).
Or over their late-night drives to the nearby fast food joint Fryer’s, sitting in the empty parking lot with a box of twenty nuggets, fries, and a large milkshake balanced on the center console, radio playing only the top one hundreds.
Donghyuck knows now the lyrics to every single song in the top ten chart, considering how often they embark on their late-night escapades.
It could’ve been over all the weekends they spent together too, watching the latest movies, hanging out at the park playing basketball (Donghyuck loses on purpose, he claims), venturing to whatever café that seems most appealing on Yelp, doing touristy things Donghyuck never imagined he’d do (like pay ten dollars to ride a Segway down the broadwalk).
Between that all, something changes.
It’s haunting, almost.
Wide, guileless eyes and a lopsided smile. Laughs that reverberate within the small confines of a boxy 1983 Volkswagen Golf that Donghyuck so endearingly named Stinky because of the one time a gym bag was left in there for two days straight, no thanks to its forgetful owner (it took a week of driving with the windows down to rid it all).
Those laughs are nearly always accompanied by smacks that land on Donghyuck’s shoulder when the conversation gets too funny to contain, at every conversation they’re both in and Donghyuck is right there beside him. Smacks to the arm or thigh, nudges to the ribs, hiding in Donghyuck’s shoulder to muffle his laugh, none of which at all painful, except for the pinching tinge it leaves around Donghyuck’s heart.
“You okay?”
Donghyuck blinks away from the stretch of trees lining the road outside, meeting Jeno’s eyes over the top of his laptop. He shifts in his seat, “What?”
Jeno scrapes at the bottom of his Tupperware - it had been leftovers from last night, made lovingly by Jaemin, who Jeno reported is having a phase for tomato-based meals - still watching Donghyuck.
Without thinking, “Why?”
“You just seem a little bothered.” Jeno takes his final bite and speaks through it, “And you’re sighing.”
Donghyuck clears his throat, pretending to return his attention to the abandoned essay he’d long given up on. Jeno doesn’t press for more, relinquishing his questioning stare and moving to tuck his now empty lunch back into his backpack. He puts on his headphones, thankfully tuning both Donghyuck and the world out.
Right on schedule, Donghyuck’s phone buzzes. He thinks not to check it, but the notification pops up on the top right-hand corner of computer screen anyway,
16:42 Mark: Class ended early!
16:42 Mark: Are you still here?
Donghyuck bites on his lip and closes his eyes.
Unfairly, his heart is beating far too loudly in his ears. He clicks on the notification bubble, hands flying over the keys before his mind can convince him to ignore it, to think on it more than he needs to,
16:45 Donghyuck: Yeah, w Jeno in 98.
The reply is immediate,
16:45 Mark: Can I join you guys?
16:45 Mark: I have gummies.
As if I need a reason to want you here, Donghyuck catches himself thinking.
He replies and tells Mark they’re on the fourth floor, at a long desk overlooking the nearby training fields.
Armed with the knowledge that his attention is going to soon be even more non-existent, Donghyuck resumes mediocre work on his essay, trying to at least get a little closer to halfway through before the day is up. He grits his teeth and skims through the word document, willing his mind to just please focus for the next ten minutes it’ll take Mark to cross campus.
It’s on the fifth time he’s looking up and around that he spots the cause of his stuttering heart: hugging his computer to his chest and peering at the other students oddly in a terribly conspicuous manner. Mark stands by the far end of the room, strawberry blonde hair striking, all-black outfit complimenting the lines of his body.
I need some air.
Donghyuck’s heart slams in his chest when a group of girls wave Mark over, motioning for him to join them.
And of course, Donghyuck rolls his eyes.
Mark is unlike most people Donghyuck’s ever met.
Sure, he’s past placing Mark on some sort of pedestal over everyone else but - there’s just something about the older boy that makes Donghyuck want to slam his head against whatever hard surface’s closest to him.
It’s how nice Mark is, Donghyuck thinks.
It’s the genuine care and concern that’s always in Mark eyes, the sweet way he remembers the most mundane things about everyone he’s ever spent more than a minute with, the goodness that Mark exuded. He never gets mad enough for it to last more than an hour, even if Donghyuck’s saying things he doesn’t mean, doing things he knows will irritate Mark, just to see how far he can go (pretty far).
Everyone loves Mark, Donghyuck very much included.
Giving in, Donghyuck watches with furtive glances as Mark approaches the table of girls, smiling cordially and greeting them with the sweetest smile Donghyuck wishes were reserved just for him. He speaks with his hands, probably explaining to them that he’s here to meet a friend - the thought wrenches Donghyuck’s gut - and he’s probably thanking them for the offer as well.
Midway through their conversation, Mark catches him looking, and Donghyuck stomps on the urge to look away.
He’s not doing anything wrong.
If he looked away, it’d be like he was hiding something. As if he’d be embarrassed to be caught staring. He’s not hiding anything.
Nothing at all.
Donghyuck gives him a stiff smile, eyes falling back to his computer screen. Everything is out of focus.
It’s less than a minute later that Mark is sliding into the empty seat next to him.
Donghyuck refuses to entertain the burst of exhilaration that rushes through him when he does; there’s an empty seat next to Jeno too and Mark decided to take the one by Donghyuck, which shouldn’t mean that much because they’re friends anyway, friends, friends, friends, but it matters.
It matters.
It just does.
“Hey,” Mark whispers, grinning when Donghyuck turns to acknowledge his presence (as if he hasn’t spent all day preparing himself for this moment and this moment only). He winces when his bag knocks loudly into the leg of the desk, apologizing quickly under his breath.
Donghyuck thinks to tell him that this isn’t a library, there’s no need to be quiet, but he settles instead with a, “Hi.”
Mark smiles, he’s always smiling and it drives Donghyuck mad. He waves to Jeno, who’s too absorbed in whatever’s he’s watching for it to just be a lecture on molecular biology, mouthing a hey back in greeting.
Donghyuck feigns to have not seen the interaction, focused strictly on his disappointing paper. Out of the corner of his eye, he spies Mark digging through his backpack, brandishing a pack of sugar-coated snake gummies. Which are coincidentally - or not - Donghyuck’s favorite studying snack.
“Gummies for you,” Mark says, leaving the brand-new packet by where Donghyuck’s hand is resting on the table. “As promised.”
Unable to resist them, Donghyuck prods at it with his pointer finger, “Did you just buy this?”
“No,” Mark says, head bowed while he continued to fumble through his backpack. “I just had them lying around the apartment so -”
Donghyuck purses his lips. He knows Mark doesn’t have sweets unless they’re offered to him; something about processed foods and the habit of smart eating.
Confident that it means nothing - even if it did, Mark’s simply a nice enough person to pick something up for Donghyuck - he rips the packet open neatly, plucking out a red-green one and biting off one end of it.
“Still working on your essay?”
Donghyuck fidgets in his seat when Mark slides a little closer to take a look, waiting for his own laptop to start up again. It’s a paper on the choice of instruments in film score music and their relation to convey emotion, and honestly, Donghyuck doesn’t even know where it’s going. It’s resigned to be a bad paper and there’s not an ounce of energy left in him to summon enough motivation to fix it.
“That’s interesting.” Mark’s knuckles brush against Donghyuck’s, reaching for a gummied snake too. Donghyuck crosses his legs and shrinks closer to the wall - Mark is sitting too close and if he gets any closer, he’s going to hear the way Donghyuck’s heart refuses to shut the hell up. “We never write stuff like these in my classes.”
“You do finance,” Donghyuck says, in the steadiest voice he can manage. “I hardly think you could write about music and math.”
Mark shrugs, chewing on his yellow-blue snake, “I’m sure someone has.”
“Probably.”
They fall into comfortable silence then. As comfortable as it’ll ever be with Donghyuck’s palms sweating and his breath hitching whenever Mark so as much moves an inch.
Bitterly, Donghyuck snatches another gummy and ferociously bites off at least half of it.
--
It didn’t use to be like this.
It didn’t use to be Donghyuck pressed up against corners and holding his breath (because Mark’s shampoo is just handmade by god himself and no, Donghyuck did not spend an hour in a candle store trying to find that exact same scent because that is weird and Mark is just a friend).
It didn’t use to be Donghyuck painstakingly avoiding Buildings 24, 63, and 82 (because Mark has classes there on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays, and Donghyuck would be daft to let himself bump into Mark without any sort of mental preparation).
It didn’t use to be Donghyuck staying two hour past his last recitation on Tuesdays doing absolutely nothing productive (because Mark has student council meetings until seven in the evening and the only thing that gets Donghyuck through the week is the twenty minute drive they take home in Stinky, which makes the two hour wait unquestionably worth it).
It didn’t use to be like this, but now it is, just because Donghyuck caught feelings.
Feelings, feelings, feelings.
Donghyuck hated the word.
The last time he ever thought to look at someone twice was in high school. It didn’t last very long and he hated the boy after; hated the boy for taking his first kiss (although, at the time, he wanted to be kissed too, but still), hated the boy for taking his first date and ruining it by having them watch some ridiculous documentary that costed them each seventeen dollars, hated the boy for being his best friend, for being the one person in the world he felt like he could be honest with, for being everything - then nothing by reducing everything they built to smithereens just because he’d caught feelings.
It’s frustrating.
Then Mark comes traipsing in with his endearing smile and his lack of personal space and lingering touches and gazes and everything Donghyuck’s hallucinated is just for him.
(But it’s not because they’re just friends.)
Donghyuck met Mark during orientation week a year or so ago. He and Jeno were arguing about leaving early - Jeno wanted to sign them up for a campus tour, Donghyuck figured they’d find their way through campus on their own somehow - when Mark approached them with almost twenty welcome packs hanging off his arms.
He handed them one each, thanking them for helping clear the extra ones the welcome committee overpacked and saving his arms from falling off. They spoke for a bit and Mark bade them goodbye when he spotted a group of freshmen cross the front lawn.
The second time he bumped into Mark was at the school’s main cafeteria. He was alone and awkwardly struggling at the register, trying to balance his laptop on a knee, a box of nuggets and fries, and his wallet and phone, all at the same time. Mark swooped in from behind, saving Donghyuck’s laptop a second before it dived into the ground. Donghyuck was shell-shocked at his appearance, and Mark paid for his lunch without even skipping a beat.
“You didn’t have to do that,” he said, following Mark out onto the front lawn.
“You looked like you were struggling,” Mark laughed. He gestured for Donghyuck to tuck his things away and waited quietly while he did. “Donghyuck, right? From last week?”
“Yeah.” There were no butterflies yet then. He took his laptop back, “I - forgot your name, sorry.”
Another laugh, “It’s Mark.” He hitched his bag higher up his shoulder, walking backwards slow, “I’ll see you around?”
Donghyuck blinked, “Uh, yeah. Sure.”
He realized upon crossing the threshold on his apartment that he never got to pay Mark back for lunch.
The third time he met Donghyuck was through Jaemin.
It was a fair of sorts and Jeno had somehow convinced him to get out of bed on a Saturday morning to bus down to campus.
He followed Jeno and Jaemin around the rows and rows of booths, extracurricular clubs and all that, stopping by where Jaemin stopped to sign up for a foodie club (they were giving out free coupons and both Donghyuck and Jeno managed to sneak more than morally allowed).
“Hey!”
Donghyuck turned, hoping not to be caught hoarding coupons for free burgers into the sleeve of his jacket, only to have found Mark again. He grinned and approached them; on his head was a neon green visor and his bright green shirt read, Student Advisor. He stood out in the crowd with his dorky outfit, but Donghyuck remembers being amazed at how Mark pulled it off with confidence.
“Oh, hey,” Jaemin said, far quicker than Donghyuck could have ever thought for his mind to work. He tugged Jeno forward by the sleeve, introducing them, “Guys, this is Mark - he’s one of the guys from our business society. And this is my boyfriend, Jeno, and friend, Donghyuck.”
“We’ve met,” Mark said, nodding at them both. Donghyuck and Jeno smiled politely, hiding their hands behind their backs in fear of coupons falling right out of their sleeves. “Are you guys in the business faculty too?”
Jeno teetered unsteadily on his feet, “Oh, no, I’m majoring in biology.”
Donghyuck snapped his mouth shut when Jaemin noticed the odd way Jeno’s standing, jaw dropping at the sight of almost ten laminated cards peeking from his boyfriend’s sleeve.
Donghyuck stepped up to take the attention off Jeno, positively sweating at the idea of getting kicked out for being a nuisance, “I’m, uh - in the arts faculty, though my major’s still undecided.”
The conversation moved quickly after that; Mark invited them all to a pizza party the business society was holding after the event and they’d all agreed in unison, fueled by the desire to escape the hall as quickly as possible because Jeno and Donghyuck were just dripping in coupons and vouchers they’d been squirreling away all afternoon.
And that was the first time Mark sent Donghyuck home.
--
“Are you hungry?”
It’s long after Jeno’s left now, bidding them goodbye about an hour after Mark had joined them, with reason that Jaemin’s done with classes. It left Donghyuck and Mark taking up one side of a table meant for four, like those couples in restaurants that can’t stand to sit apart, absolutely needing to sit with their elbows and shoulders touching.
Donghyuck swallows the thought, “Hungry?”
“Yeah.” Mark checks his watch, “It’s just past eight now. There are free sides at Fryer’s.”
“I thought -”
“Hey, Mark-ah.”
Donghyuck stops when a girl he doesn’t recognize sidles up to their table.
At a single glance, he decides that she’s very nice. Her hair is plaited neatly, skin clear of blemishes, teeth white and pearly. Her yellow blouse screams happiness and her blue jeans fit her shapely legs well. She has her hands behind her back and a rosy blush to her cheeks.
In fact, she seems to emanate that same kind of goodness Mark has.
Donghyuck blinks away, staring down at his ripped jeans and old pullover, one that he’s already worn twice this week.
“Sorry to bother,” she says, “But I wanted to let you know that the budget is out for next term’s first event, and I wasn’t sure if you’d seen the email…”
Mark turns in his seat to face her, navigating to his mailbox on his computer quickly, “Ah, no, I haven’t - but I’ll take a look at it over the weekend? I’ve had a ton of assignments clashing with the same due date and I just -”
“Oh my gosh, no - that’s okay!” She smiles. Prettily, Donghyuck adds. “I just wanted to make sure you got it before our next council meeting on Wednesday, and there are a couple of changes from the last time so I thought I could give you a run by of it over coffee tomorrow if you have any questions?”
Wednesday?
“Yeah, of course, thank you, that’d actually be really great!”
Donghyuck closes his eyes and tries not to slam his laptop shut and leave. Jealousy - because, what else could it possibly be? - curls tightly, hotly, in Donghyuck’s gut.
Whatever. Whatever. Whatever, Mark can do whatever he wants with whatever council member whenever he wants.
What. Ever.
“Awesome,” she clasps her hands together. The sound echoes in Donghyuck’s head, bouncing off his burning skin. Everything is so irritating. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Yeah, sure - I’ll text you.”
“Great!”
The coast is clear when Donghyuck saves his work and starts to pack up. Mark takes his cue, and they’re out of the study space before Donghyuck can act on his feelings and run off without another word. They amble out of the building, Donghyuck waiting by the side while Mark jogs over to the nearest trash can to toss out the empty packet of gummies.
“Burgers?” Mark asks, walking back to Donghyuck with that same sincere smile on his face.
Donghyuck stares at him for a moment, words on the tip of his tongue, so, so, so close to ruining the friendship he’s built with Mark. Thoughts of stepping into Mark’s space and letting his mouth run free, because he just can’t do this anymore.
Just please leave me alone.
The thoughts, the wants.
He can’t keep doing this to himself, trying to hold Mark as close as possible without so much as ruining whatever dynamics there are between them. Trying to shove his heart back into his chest when it’s begging to be let free, to crawl up his throat and just make his lips move to say, I like you, please just -
Trying to quell the relentless waves of jealousy because Mark is not his and it’s his own fault for placing such an expectation that Mark would turn down coffee with a pretty girl.
Why would he?
“What’s wrong?”
Donghyuck snaps back into reality. Immediate, “Nothing.”
“We could go for something else if you don’t want burgers. Maybe ramen? Or sushi? Or -”
“Burgers are fine.” Donghyuck hates the way Mark stares at him. Hates everything. Wants everything to just stop, at least until he can get his heart in check. He runs a hand through his hair and puts on an annoyed look, “Did you park Stinky up the hill again, because I swear -”
Mark breaks into a grin, “It’s the only place on campus with free parking!”
“For good reason.” Donghyuck starts their trek towards the treacherous hill between Buildings 1 and 6, “And it’s so far, what’s the point of driving if you’ve to cross the entirety of campus every day?”
With that, they fall into their usual bickering. Donghyuck lets Mark win by the end of it, out of pity because Mark did pay for Stinky out of his measly pay as a part-time tutor.
And by the time he’s comfortable in the passenger seat of Stinky, he decides then that the friendship matters far too much to him and if he wanted to save it - he needs some distance first.
--
By the first week of it, Donghyuck finds himself fighting the urge to reply to every single one of Mark’s texts the moment they ping in on his phone. He refuses Mark’s offers for a ride home and they don’t drive out for any late-night food runs. He goes home straight after his final recitation on Tuesday and lies that his classes got moved up so I’ll be fine taking the bus home! Have fun at your meeting!
By the second week of it, Donghyuck breathes a little easier. He camps out in the science library instead of the study halls where he knows Mark will be. He doesn’t see Mark at all, not even a sliver of his blonde hair in sight. He packs his schedule to meet with Jaemin and Jeno, and Jaemin and his other classmates he never got the chance to hang out with because he’s always with Mark. His phone buzzes with texts from Mark, but he brushes them off, not allowing himself the chance to slip up.
He misses Mark’s laugh and his eye-roll inducing jokes, their late-night drives and nuggets and fries and milkshakes, the giddy feeling he gets whenever Mark glances at him and the rarest of moments their hands brush. He misses them desperately, but he knows better - knows that if he rids not the feelings in his heart, he’ll lose Mark forever.
By the third week of it, Mark knows something’s up.
14:56 Mark: Hey, is everything okay?
14:58 Mark: Feels like I haven’t seen you in ages.
21:02 Donghyuck: Sorry! Busy with school.
21:03 Mark: Oh, okay.
21:04 Mark: Can we meet when you’re free?
By the end of the month, Donghyuck thinks he forgets what it’s like, being with Mark.
--
“What’s going on with you?”
Donghyuck’s hand hovers where he’d been piling cheese on his third slice of pepperoni pizza, “What?”
Jaemin folds his pizza slice in half, an action so Jeno, “You and Mark. I never see you guys hanging out together anymore.”
Donghyuck takes a bite out of his own slice, chewing slowly, not really knowing what to say.
He could tell Jaemin, he really could. He knows Jaemin would never tell on him; their friendship trumps Jaemin and Mark’s. He could, but - there wouldn’t be a point. Everything’s over anyway, he barely even thinks about Mark anymore (this, he tells himself).
“He asked me about you the other day.”
Donghyuck swallows, “Did he.”
“Jeno and I were at Fryer’s and he came up to us just as we were leaving. Said he hadn’t seen you in a while, asked if you were alright.”
Donghyuck folds his own pizza slice in half.
“Are you?” Jaemin nudges at Donghyuck’s calf with the tip of his foot, getting the boy to look at him, “Alright?”
“I’m fine.” Donghyuck crosses his legs and tucks them out of Jaemin’s reach, “I’m busy, he’s busy. That’s just how it is now.”
Jaemin’s lips thin. He lowers the pizza slice, dilemma clear as day, etched across his features. Donghyuck tips his chin up once in question, but Jaemin forgoes answering, shaking his head.
When the silence gets too hard to bear, Jaemin clears his throat, “He was with Chaeyoung. At Fryer’s.”
It’s not like Donghyuck’s heart stops, because it really doesn’t. It doesn’t stop so much as goes into overdrive, replaced almost immediately with self-loathing because why, why, why am I like this?
“She’s treasurer on council,” Jaemin supplies. “Really nice, Mark says, though she can be a little stubborn about the club’s money matters.”
Donghyuck nods mutely.
Jaemin sniffs, “I think they look good together.”
“Sure,” Donghyuck shrugs. He brushes his hair from his eyes with clean fingers, “I’d be happy for them if they got together. She seems nice.”
“Really,” Jaemin says dryly. He picks the slice back up, saying when Donghyuck refuses to speak, “Stop avoiding him, Hyuck.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“He obviously cares about you,” Jaemin insists. Donghyuck wishes Jeno were here instead, “Did you know council meetings were moved to Wednesday afternoons this term?”
Donghyuck eats to the crust of his pizza slice, tossing it to the empty side of their opened pizza box. He didn’t know that, no.
“He’s been driving to school on Tuesdays just to pick you up.”
Which is stupid, Donghyuck wants to say, because I’ve been lying about having classes til seven, just so I could see him.
“He’s just nice,” Donghyuck says, waving Jaemin off. He reaches for another slice, “You know that’s how he’s like with everyone.”
“Not that nice.” Jaemin leans close to the table; Donghyuck pulls away, slice cradled to his chest, “You obviously mean more to him than just a -”
“Don’t go there.” Donghyuck doesn’t regret the tone, watching Jaemin’s brows pull together, “He’s just a friend. Friendships fall out all the time. Friends stop being friends all the time. You’re making a big deal out of nothing.”
The conversation ends there.
--
12:31 Mark: Hey.
12:32 Mark: Do you have a minute? Just to talk?
12:32 Mark: I’ll wait for you at 52.
Those messages were sent three hours ago.
Donghyuck doesn’t mean to ignore them, he really doesn’t.
But it’s a week to finals and most - if not, all - of his assignments are due in less than seven days, which is just a terrifying thought, forget about actually completing them all.
The messages lie forgotten in his pocket until he’s trekking out of the library of 78, vision blurred from having sat in front of his computer for the past seven over hours. The coffee cup in his hand has long been empty and he wishes absentmindedly for it to be magically refilled once more.
He stumbles his way out of the building, hoping the fresh air and green trees would do something to help him keep awake. He takes a deep breath, leaning on the railings by the entrance, watching the stream of students amble by.
“Hyuck.”
Forget fresh air and green trees.
Donghyuck whips around, body jolting in surprise at the sight of Mark standing by the sliding doors. His hair is tucked neatly under a plain black baseball cap, wire frame glasses sitting perfectly on the bridge of his nose. His cheeks look a little sallow, but it might just be the light or as if Mark had been waiting outside for long or the fact that Donghyuck hasn’t seen this face in over a month.
“What are you -” Donghyuck locks his legs into place and squares his shoulders, “What’re you doing here?”
“I texted you.” Mark says this not as if he thought Donghyuck didn’t see it; he says it like he knows Donghyuck’d ignored it. “I was waiting, but -” he trails off, then picks up again, “I couldn’t get in because it’s faculty-access only. Jaemin told me Jeno said you were here.”
Traitors, Donghyuck curses.
“Listen,” Mark starts. He inches closer with tiny steps, hands lifted up as if he were trying to show Donghyuck he meant no harm, as if he were trying to keep Donghyuck from being scared off. “Can we - go someplace else? Just to talk?”
Donghyuck masters nonchalance, “What about?”
Mark’s expression twists, hands dropping to his sides, “Listen, Hyuck, I don’t know why you’re -”
“Hey, Lee, is that you?”
A group of three boys start to approach them, hands lifted in a friendly greeting at Mark. Of course. Donghyuck takes the chance to turn on his heel, slinking out of Mark’s line of sight.
Still, he’s caught when Mark rushes to stop him, catching his wrist. He stills immediately at the contact.
“Please just wait.”
His skin burns where Mark touches, and it’s unlike all the times they’ve ever touched before.
Donghyuck tries to twist himself free but Mark is resolute on keeping him here. His heart pounds against his chest, but Donghyuck refuses to let himself believe the lie he’s fought so hard to ignore.
A month has gone into ripping Mark from his heart and mind, but just one look is enough to rid the resolve.
Putting up a fight, he wrenches his arm from Mark’s and Mark lets him go, but he places himself between Donghyuck and the entrance to the building, staring Donghyuck down with pleading eyes.
The only reason Donghyuck shuts his mind up and agrees to stay.
“What’re you still doing here, man!” One of the guys say, just as they get close enough to clap Mark on the back. “I thought you said you were going home!”
“Yeah dude,” the guy in the middle chimes in. He elbows the third boy, “We had to sub Jinhyung in for our four-on-four basketball match today and,” he gives Mark two thumbs down, shaking his head in obvious disappointment.
Mark turns back around, one foot still in front of Donghyuck’s, protective or possessive, Donghyuck convinces himself he wants no part of it. “Yeah, sorry, I - just have something really… important I’ve to do.”
Donghyuck blushes up to his hairline, shrinking further behind Mark, hoping to the highest of high heavens that none of these three boys are friendly enough to exchange pleasantries with him. They don’t, leaving Mark alone only after he agrees to a basketball rematch sometime next week.
Quiet unfolds around them again, and Donghyuck opens his mouth to say, I should go just as Mark says,
“I’ll wait for you if you still have some work to finish up.”
Donghyuck shoves his hands into his pockets, “You don’t have to do that.”
“Please, Hyuck.” Mark’s eyes fall shut, “I just think we need to talk.”
“I -”
“Just - let me give you a ride home.” Donghyuck swallows the rock in his throat. Mark reaches to fiddle with the hem of his shirt, “Then I’ll never bother you again.”
Donghyuck nods, albeit weakly.
Mark doesn’t start the car, not even after a minute’s passed and they’re both seated in silence. In his peripheral, Donghyuck watches Mark’s fist clench and unclench above his knees, knuckles white then pink, then white again.
Buckling himself in, Donghyuck sets his backpack between his legs and settles back into Stinky’s polyester seat. He’s going to miss how perpetually funky it smells in here. Folding his arms over his chest, he breaks the staticky air consuming them both, “Thanks for the lift.”
It makes Mark sigh, “There you go again.”
Donghyuck blanches, “What?”
“You always -” Mark grabs onto the steering wheel, bracing himself, “You always act like nothing’s wrong whenever something bothers you, especially when something bothers you.”
Donghyuck reels at the accusation, shoulder bumping into the car door.
“You’re avoiding me.” Mark says this ironically to the dashboard before him, anywhere that isn’t Donghyuck, “And I - I can tell when I’m not wanted, Hyuck, I just - want to know why.” Donghyuck flinches inwardly at the directness of the words, “Did I - did I do something wrong? Did I upset you in any way?”
It isn’t rhetorical but Donghyuck is at a loss for an answer.
“You never answer my texts, you never want to talk to me, you never are at our study spot -” our study spot? “- anymore,” Mark takes a deep breath and suddenly it feels like there’s no oxygen left for Donghyuck in the car, “I saw you everyday and now I never do - I just -”
Donghyuck watches Mark curl forward against the steering wheel, words barely a whisper, “You just what?”
“I just miss you.”
All at once, Donghyuck feels the rest of the world fade away.
“I miss you,” Mark mutters. His eyes are shut now, forehead pressed against the wheel, “I miss having you around, I miss you.”
Donghyuck sticks himself to the car door, half of him desperate to leave and never turn back. The other half of him… wishes to stay, wishes to reach out over the center console and pull Mark into a tight hug.
“I know -” Mark goes on, as if he’d practiced this a hundred times in the shower. He doesn’t spare Donghyuck a glance, can’t seem to bear to look at anything so he keeps his eyes closed, “I know what I feel. For you.” And with a deep shuddering breath Donghyuck feels in his own chest, “I like you.”
Donghyuck grips onto the seatbelt a little tighter, tries to ground himself before his soul leaves his body.
There’s no way, Donghyuck tells himself, hating the way even his inner voice shakes, trembling at Mark’s words, He’s just confused.
“More than a friend,” Mark admits quietly. His knuckles are back to being white now, baseball cap obscuring any sliver of expression Donghyuck can see, “That’s how I feel, Hyuck, and with you avoiding me, I just can’t -”
“Stop,” Donghyuck manages to say, unable to take it for a second longer. Mark stays in his curled up self, hiding away from Donghyuck, “You’re - you must be mistaken.”
That has Mark reeling; he sits up slowly, eyes trained on Donghyuck now. It feels like they’re walking on very thin ice, ready to fall through at any second. He takes off his baseball cup, runs a hand through his hair, tosses the cap in the backseat. Donghyuck presses himself further into the car door.
When Mark speaks, he’s calm, “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know,” Donghyuck says slowly, afraid of himself, of his own words, of what he wants. “But you and I, hyung…”
“What about you and I?” Mark asks, somewhere between confused and desolate. He pushes his glasses further up his nose, blinking, “I’m serious about this, Hyuck.”
“Are you?” Donghyuck counters, afraid of the heat in his voice. He takes a deep breath, “Or are you just confused?”
Mark starts, caught off guard, “What? I know what I feel, I’m not -”
“That’s the thing, you’re all… feelings,” Donghyuck cuts in. “You feel things so fast, so big. Sometimes I don’t think you even know what you want. You just… want. And that’s scary to me.”
Donghyuck knows he sounds harsh, defensive, but he can’t help it. He’s watched Mark fall for a million things so quickly.
He knows Mark has a habit of falling for anything that captures his heart and imagination, and it’s often the simplest things. He gets caught up in new hobbies - skateboarding, guitar, poetry, anything he thinks will let him express himself better.
He falls for sunsets, staring in awe as the colors shift across the sky, convinced each one is more beautiful than the last. He falls in love with music, diving into every album or song he finds, convinced he’s just discovered his favorite sound.
He falls for the idea of adventure, always ready to set off somewhere he hasn’t been, dreaming of places he’s never seen. And he falls for books, losing himself in stories and characters, quoting lines as if they’re guiding truths for his life.
For Mark, everything he loves becomes this big, boundless feeling, and he dives into it with all he’s got, like he’s searching for something meaningful in every little thing.
And Donghyuck’s terrified he might just be one of those things - a fleeting feeling, a passing crush. As much as he wants to believe Mark, the doubt is so loud in his mind.
Mark’s mouth falls open for a second before he closes it, his hand tightening on the wheel. “Are you being serious right now?”
Donghyuck shrugs, lips pressed into a thin line. “You’re so sure you like me, but… I don’t even know if you’ll feel the same way in a month.”
Mark leans back, hurt flickering in his eyes, “Hyuck, I’ve… I’ve liked you for a while now. This isn’t something that just came up.”
A pang of guilt twists in Donghyuck’s stomach, but he pushes it down, determined not to let his guard slip. “And what if in a week, you realize you were wrong?” Donghyuck can feel his chest closing up, “Mark, I don’t… I can’t just be another passing feeling for you.”
“You’re not,” Mark insists softly, but Donghyuck feels his own defenses flare up, fueled by the fear he keeps buried under logic and caution.
Because Mark can say these things, he doesn’t understand.
Mark lives his life so openly, without hesitation. Meanwhile, Donghyuck feels like he’s constantly balancing, carefully constructing walls to protect himself.
And Mark is… Mark is dangerous to that balance.
Mark leans back, clearly hurt, and the sight twists something painful in Donghyuck’s chest, “Why do you think you know better than me about how I feel?”
Donghyuck shakes his head, “Because I know you. I know you’re not thinking, Mark. You’re just feeling. And… I don’t know if that’s enough.”
Mark’s eyes flash, “Okay, fine. Let’s turn it around. What about you? You’re always thinking, always picking everything apart. But can you tell me -” he pauses, voice softening, “- what do you feel?”
Donghyuck’s heart stutters, panic threatening to overtake him. Mark’s words feel like a spotlight, too bright, too unrelenting. He could try to dodge, give Mark some surface-level answer, but the honesty in Mark’s eyes keeps him rooted, trapped.
“I… I don’t know,” Donghyuck finally says, strained. ”I just know - the way you’re with me is the way you’re with everyone.”
“That is not -”
“It is,” Donghyuck wants to shut down, to backpedal, but he pushes on, letting the truth bleed through, raw and vulnerable. “You don’t see it, hyung, but you’re confusing to a lot of people. You’re confusing to me.”
Mark lets out a short mirthless laugh, “So it’s not me who’s confused, it’s you. You’re scared of feeling anything real so you’re trying to pin this all on me, like I haven’t thought this through. Like I haven’t spent the last month thinking about you, dreaming about you.”
Donghyuck’s instinct is to deny it, to put his walls back up, but the truth is right there, staring him down. He’s scared of feeling this deeply, of letting Mark in and losing himself in the process.
But hearing it from Mark, spoken so plainly… it stings in a way he can’t ignore.
They sit in silence for a long moment, tension thick in the air, until Mark speaks again, softer this time, “Stop thinking, Hyuck. Just for a second. Stop thinking, stop overthinking. I want to know what you feel. How you feel about me. About us.”
Donghyuck’s chest tightens, the walls he’s carefully built around himself cracking as Mark’s words sink in. He’s so used to hiding, to rationalizing every feeling away, that facing his own heart is terrifying.
But with Mark here, looking at him like this… he just wants to let go.
He swallows, voice wavering, “I don’t want to lose you, hyung. That’s what I feel.”
Mark’s expression softens, hand reaching out to rest on where Donghyuck‘s strangling the seatbelt.
Donghyuck feels a strange weight settle in his chest, and for the first time, he lets himself be in this moment - no overthinking, no walls.
Just him and Mark.
With Mark’s hand resting over his, steady and unyielding it’s like all his defenses are falling apart. He looks down, feeling the weight of Mark’s presence, the way he’s just here, holding on even when Donghyuck’s done nothing but push him away.
The words start to bubble up, ones he’s kept locked away for so long, and now they’re spilling out before he can stop them.
“Hyung… I… it’s not that I don’t feel the same way.” He takes a shaky breath, his voice small, vulnerable, “It’s just… I was too afraid to say anything.”
Mark’s eyes widen a little but he stays silent, giving Donghyuck the space he needs. And somehow, that makes it easier for him to keep going.
“I see you, you know? Everyone loves you, Mark. They always have. You walk into a room, and everyone’s just… drawn to you. And I thought… I thought, ‘Why would he ever look at me that way?’” Donghyuck laughs softly, bitterly, fingers twisting in his lap. Mark pulls it apart, holds on to him firmly, protesting Donghyuck’s words with a squeeze.
“I was scared that I’d just be another person who fell for you, someone you wouldn’t even notice.”
Mark shakes his head, hand tightening over Donghyuck’s, “It’s always been you. From the start. It could never be just anyone else.”
Donghyuck’s heart aches, all the emotions he’s kept buried clawing their way to the surface, “But that’s just it, Mark. You’re… so easy to love. Everyone sees it. It’s hard for me to believe that I could ever mean something to you that… that everyone else doesn’t already give you. I’ve spent so long convincing myself you’d never… feel this way about me.”
Mark leans closer, soft but insistent, “That’s where you’re wrong and I’m not just saying this. You think I don’t know what I feel, but I’ve known for a long time.”
Donghyuck closes his eyes, letting the words sink in, feeling the weight of them settle over him like a blanket he didn’t know he needed. “I wanted to believe that… maybe you could like me back,” he whispers, voice breaking. “But I was so afraid. Afraid that if I said anything, you’d… see right through me and realize I’m just scared, just trying to hold on to something I don’t even think I deserve.”
Mark reaches up, gently brushing a tear from Donghyuck’s cheek he hadn’t even realized had fallen, “I don’t want you to be afraid anymore. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. I want you, with everything that comes with it.”
Donghyuck opens his eyes, seeing nothing but Mark’s unwavering gaze. It’s like the final piece he’s been holding onto shatters, and he finally lets himself feel it all - the love, the fear, the hope he thought he’d buried.
“I… I’m not good at this,” he admits, barely a whisper. “At just letting myself feel without… questioning everything. But when I’m with you… it’s like I don’t want to think. I just want to be here with you, and that scares me. Because I don’t know how to stop thinking.”
Mark smiles, a softness in his eyes that makes Donghyuck feel like he’s the only person in the world, “Then just be with me. Even if you don’t know how to stop thinking, even if you don’t have it all figured out. Just… let me be here with you, and we’ll figure it out together.”
Donghyuck’s lip trembles, but he smiles, a real, raw smile that feels like the first honest one he’s given in a long time. He nods, fingers finally intertwining with Mark’s.
“Okay,” he whispers. “I’m… I’m here. I’m with you.”
Mark’s hand squeezes his, and in that small gesture, Donghyuck feels an entire world of possibilities open up before him - possibilities he’s too afraid to look at just yet but that he knows are there, waiting.
And for once, he lets himself lean into that, no overthinking, just the warmth of Mark’s hand in his and the unspoken promise that maybe, just maybe, he’s right where he’s meant to be.