Chapter Text
Retrospectively, Donghyuck should have known it was only a matter of time. They did share a few friends, after all. They were bound to meet again at weddings, baby showers, any major life events that called for getting together and celebrating.
As it is, it happens at Taeil’s housewarming party, on a warm April night.
Unlike their first ever encounter, there’s nothing forgettable in the way Mark’s eyes meet his own from across the living room of Taeil’s new apartment, nothing forgettable about the sound of his voice when he speaks Donghyuck’s name for the first time in four years.
“Donghyuck, hi.”
It’s short and sweet, if a bit hesitant. It’s almost enough to take Donghyuck’s breath away.
What makes everything okay, what makes this whole thing bearable, is the movement in Mark’s eyes, like he doesn’t know where to look. Like he doesn’t know how to be around him.
And Donghyuck feels the same, if not worse. After all, he is the bad guy in his own story. He doesn’t know where they stand, if Mark holds a grudge, doesn’t know whether to aim for casualness or solemnity. His hands are getting clammy and he takes too long to answer, and his nervousness must be obvious and embarrassing but Mark stays.
Mark waits for him.
“Mark, hey. I didn’t know you’d be there.”
It sounds like an apology, and Donghyuck tries not to wince. His discomfort must show on his face, however, because Mark smiles and gets closer, closer, and leans on the wall beside Donghyuck.
“I didn’t know you’d be here either,” he starts, talking low and soft, like a secret that’s only for the both of them to learn, only for the both of them to keep. “But it’s nice to see you.” It sounds like a peace offering, almost. Like Mark's giving him an opportunity to stand on equal grounds, like Donghyuck wasn't the one who'd ran without a word, like they're just old friends that lost contact.
It’s in Mark’s voice, in the gentleness in his eyes, that Donghyuck finds that they will be fine.
He’s had four years to prepare for the possibility, the eventuality of meeting Mark again. But he has grown up, and so has Mark. It seems so, at least.
There’s an air of confidence in his posture, in the tone of his voice, in the fitted clothes he wears—and it is the first time Donghyuck sees Mark wearing clothes that don’t swallow his whole frame and make him look years younger than he actually is—all little things that were different when Donghyuck last saw him. There’s a shadow of a stubble above his upper lip, on his jaw, and Donghyuck remembers oh so well how it burned against his skin and Mark’s apologetic smile when Donghyuck complained about it, how he used to kiss his reddened chin better. That hasn’t changed.
Four years.
Donghyuck can do this.
“Fuck—stop or I’m gonna—"
Donghyuck looks up from where he’s kneeling, the tip of Mark’s cock resting on his tongue. Having Mark hot and throbbing in his mouth again is an experience he never thought he’d get to live again, and it feels so good Donghyuck forgets that it should feel wrong.
Mark’s eyes are glossy from where he looks down at him, and his grip on Donghyuck’s hair stings a little because for all of his soft voice and kind smiles, Mark’s never gone easy on Donghyuck when it comes to getting him exactly where and how he wants him. That hasn’t changed. It makes Donghyuck feel dizzy, witnessing the side of Mark that pulls and scratches and takes exactly what he wants. It makes Donghyuck eager to please, and it’s raw desire that propels him to lick a slow, wet stripe along the underside of Mark’s cock, fluttering his eyes shut at the moan Mark lets out.
The hand in his hair yanks him off, away from Mark, and he’s left catching his breath, teary-eyed, lost to lust and so, so ready for the next step. His own lips feel swollen where he licks them, and more noticeably they taste bitter.
Donghyuck wouldn’t have it another way.
He scrambles to get to his feet, wincing at the way his legs have started to fall asleep under him while he was blowing Mark. Weakly, he clutches onto Mark’s arms, letting himself get pushed on the bed, opening his legs so Mark can fit in between them, like he never left. The familiarity of it all makes his head spin, and he whines for Mark to hurry up, to do something, anything. He doesn’t let himself think, afraid it would lead to his ruin.
Thankfully, Mark looks as frantic as he feels. He curses at the sight of Donghyuck spread out on his bed, legs shamelessly apart to display the curve of his hips, the softness of his stomach, the fullness of his cock and the meeting of his thighs, doing his best to appeal to Mark’s most primitive desires. It’s still what they’re both best at: making each other mad on lust and need and want.
“Mark,” Donghyuck pleads, thighs twitching from the effort of keeping his legs stretched wide apart, back arching off the bed to beg for more friction.
Mark sets into motion at the word, silencing him with a bite on his lips and a wandering hand tracing up the inside of his legs, traveling from his knee to his balls to his knee again, coaxing another plea out of Donghyuck.
He’s a bit hazy on the details—a tangle of limbs, pushing and pulling—but next thing he knows, he’s sitting on Mark’s lap, a slick finger pressed against his rim and Mark asking for permission. He startles a bit at the feeling, not expecting it. Mark must take his reaction as rejection, however, because he stops in his tracks and retracts his hand, moving to press his palm on Donghyuck’s dick instead, thumbing at the slit, an apology ready on his lips.
“Please,” Donghyuck cuts him off, grasping at the hand palming at his shaft and leading it downwards. “Your fingers,” he pants. He’s never had to fake desperation with Mark, and it’s a good thing he’s never had to conceal it either. “Want you.”
He’s always been weak for Mark’s hands—slightly calloused from playing guitar, forever warm and ready to break Donghyuck into pieces. When the first finger presses into him, finally giving Donghyuck what he wants, Mark’s mouth so, so close, Donghyuck swears he’s already seeing stars. It feels like coming home, in a way, surrendering himself to Mark and to pleasure, surrendering himself to muscle memory—and oh, he isn’t ready to think about how his body never forgot Mark, how his spine arches and legs open to get more, more, again.
They make quick work of getting ready, Mark whispering words Donghyuck can’t hear into the smooth skin of his thighs, alternating between tender kisses and bruising bites, and crooking his fingers just right, like he doesn’t need to remember how Donghyuck wants it, like it was always crystal clear to him.
Mark is more quiet than he used to be, concealing his words from Donghyuck when he used to burn them into his mind, making him blush in broad daylight with how indecent he could be. He used to be able to make Donghyuck cry with just his voice and teasing touches, and Donghyuck almost misses that, but Mark makes it up by never leaving him out of his sight, pinning Donghyuck down on the bed with his eyes and his hands on his thighs, grip on the verge of too tight.
I’m not going anywhere, Donghyuck thinks, but he doesn’t dare say it out loud. Instead, he tugs on Mark’s arms, grabs a condom from his bedside drawer and hands it over, sliding his hands on Mark’s black hair, combing the strands of his nape between his fingers, trying his best to appear soothing.
“Ready?” Mark whispers, holding his dick to Donghyuck’s entrance, slowly pushing in when the other man gives a tiny nod.
To say it feels overwhelming would be an understatement.
“You’re so hard,” Donghyuck moans, in awe of how well Mark fills him, trying his best not to thrash around with the sensation of too much yet not nearly enough. “It feels so good.” He traps Mark’s head between his hands and leads it down, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to Mark’s parted lips. “I missed this so much,” he reveals into Mark’s cheek, breathing into the skin, moving his hips a little to signal that he’s ready for more.
When Mark buries his head in Donghyuck’s neck, he shivers at the sensation of closeness, intimacy, he shivers because Mark is throbbing deep inside him and he can’t wait to lose himself to carnal pleasure.
It feels a little like Donghyuck’s heart shatters, right there and then, as Mark’s breathing visibly speeds up, the muscles of his back tensing, and suddenly Donghyuck is cold and empty and so very confused.
“I’m sorry,” Mark manages to whisper, audibly choked up, quick to cover Donghyuck’s body with the blanket they had tossed aside and hiding his face behind his hands. “I can’t—I can’t do this.”
His heart feels frozen inside his chest, tiny broken pieces that prevents blood to flow correctly through his veins and renders him incapable of moving. There are a million thoughts running inside his head, and he tries not to let the hurt he feels at Mark’s rejection show because this isn’t about him. It’s about Mark, catching his breath on the other side of the bed, carefully avoiding his gaze and goosebumps raising on his skin from the sudden coldness of the room.
Donghyuck puts everything aside. His pride, his needs, his feelings and his most bitter urges, and doesn’t try to understand. This isn’t about him.
He’s never been good with tending to wounds, but he can try.
“Let’s calm down, okay?” He says at last, hesitantly, shifting to lay on his side, one hand under his pillow, one hand stretched out to Mark. “Come here,” he gestures, patting on the mattress in front of him.
It seems to have been the right thing to say, thankfully, as Mark follows Donghyuck’s suggestion and snuggles under his arm, trying his best to find a comfortable position against Donghyuck’s chest.
They spoon in silence for a while, Donghyuck isn’t sure how much time passes, before Mark detaches himself from their embrace and turns on his other side, shifting to face Donghyuck. His features are peaceful. There’s no sad curl to his mouth, no tear streaks, no red eyes, nothing but fairness and youth on the curve of his cheeks. The sight makes Donghyuck ache.
“You, know, I was so into you, it made me a bit stupid.”
Donghyuck thinks he might’ve misheard him. “What?” he asks, carefully, trying to stop his heart from beating so fast it he hears his own blood traveling through his veins, threatening to drown out Mark’s voice.
Mark doesn’t repeat himself. He closes his eyes and smiles in Donghyuck’s direction, stretching his arms, the picture perfect image of nonchalance. Unfortunately for him, the tremor in his tone gives him away.
“Hmm, it was kind of bad when you left.”
It all makes sense now. Why Mark always chose to stay. Why he didn’t fight, ever. Why he doesn’t want to have sex with Donghyuck tonight.
It doesn’t feel right, to learn something so significant right there, while they’re both vulnerable and half-asleep. It doesn’t feel fair, Donghyuck thinks, petulantly, but he would never hold it against Mark. After all, he wasn’t the one that chose to leave when he could’ve chosen to talk it out.
God, he feels so tired all of a sudden. It feels like he’s been carrying the same sadness for years, and when he thought he’d put it down, he has to carry it all over again.
It feels unfair to Mark, that he should be the cause of Donghyuck’s sorrow, involuntarily.
Donghyuck sighs. He turns his back to Mark and scoots closer, settling against hiss chest. Mark lets him, draping an arm across Donghyuck’s chest once he’s set. Donghyuck catches his hand, smells the faint scent of Mark and skin and hand cream that lingers on it, and presses a kiss right at the center of the palm.
He wishes everything could be as easy as that—taking Mark’s hand and making it his for a while.
“I think we have a lot to talk about.”
Mark’s chest is warm against Donghyuck’s back. It’s better that way. It provides the illusion of being hidden from the other one's eyes.
It’s quiet, that night, like only old love allows itself to be.
There’s none of the hurry and desperation he used to feel around Mark before, back when Donghyuck was stealing seconds, minutes, hours of Mark’s time, eyes staring at the clock, counting down the time separating them from goodbyes.
Once they're done talking, they find themselves pressed back against back, just intimate enough to feel comforting, but enough to be deniable, this feeling that’s hanging over them, lurking in the shadows of the room. Donghyuck doesn’t dare put a name on it, if only because it feels too much like a ghost of what this feeling used to be.
Mark, ever the same, falls asleep as soon as they say goodnight, and Donghyuck is left to deal with a familiar state of loneliness. It used to drive him mad, this ache of feeling so utterly alone, even with a man sleeping by his side. He welcomes it now. There are worse things than being in bed with someone you’ve loved for most of your adult life—even if that love leads to just falling asleep side by side.
He could turn over and trace shapes on Mark’s spine. Mark used to love that, said it lured him to sleep like nothing else. Mark used to marvel at how tender Donghyuck could be, and would never shy out of exposing Donghyuck’s deepest secret out loud—unaware that it even was a secret.
He could tug on Mark’s black hair, at the loose strands of hair draping along his nape, and pretend to fall asleep if it were to wake him up. He smiles as the thought crosses his mind. Just like in th past, being with Mark brings out the childish impulses he has repressed deep in himself, for better or for worse.
Later, when he does manage to succumb to the night, at last, Donghyuck’s sleep is dreamless. Warm. He falls asleep to the thought that, at last, better days have come, because he’s fine and so is Mark. They’re fine. They can breathe the same air and share the same bed and come out feeling better than worse. It’s a relief, to feel content with so little when you desire so much. When they will wake up, on the morning of a new, shiny day, they will both be proud of how far they’ve come, to let go of their past, to bury misery in mud and come out of it clean. Come out of it better adults to heal the wounds of their messy past.
When Mark leaves in the morning, he leaves Donghyuck behind with a tender heart and an agreement that they know better than to try. Not when their past, as far as four years ago and as near as the night before, was full of tears and broken hearts.
It’s a very adult conversation that Donghyuck is proud to have had, feeling giddy at the thought of being mature enough to love Mark and not let it lead to a melodramatic disaster.
There’s nothing wrong with being rational and reasonable and choosing happiness over love—not when the two are disconnected from one another. There’s nothing wrong with kissing Mark’s lips one last time before sending him off for the day, distinctly aware that this gesture already belongs to the past.
There might be something wrong, however, in the way he can’t stop thinking about Mark. At least that’s what Renjun says when Donghyuck admits it to him.
But when has Donghyuck ever listened to Renjun, especially when it comes to Mark?
The weeks following their night together are pretty laid back, by Donghyuck’s standards. He sees his friends here and there, grabs lunch with his younger brothers, buys himself a new houseplant from the store that just opened down his street. Work is pretty quiet, too, and it’s always nice to keep a light mind at the end of spring, or so his mom taught him.
His routine usually goes like this: work 9 to 5, get home by 7.30pm at the latest, cook some vegetable based meal, watch whatever pops up on his Youtube homepage and fall asleep while watching Netflix. It’s a pretty solid and healthy routine that has taken him years to set, and even more time to come to terms with finding satisfaction in his seemingly boring life. Sometimes the most boring nights are the most rewarding ones, and that’s something you only truly gets when you come home on a Friday night and find yourself downing an entire tub of ice cream in front of a dumb, low-quality drama.
It’s also a routine that gets blown to the wind as soon as Mark reappears in Donghyuckh’s life.
“Hi! Hang on—” Donghyuck manages to say into his phone speaker, struggling to balance it between his cheek and his shoulder, blindly reaching into his bag of grocery to fetch for an apple that rolled all the way to the bottom of the bag and is in danger of turning to mush by the time Donghyuck makes it to his place. “Can I call you back in, like, ten minutes? Once I’m home,” he explains, finally grasping the fruit in his hand and pulling it out.
“Yeah, sure,” is the answer that greets him down the line, a soft voice from the softest man. Donghyuck would know. “Call me back whenever you get there, then," and there’s a giggle in his voice right as Mark hangs up, like he’s so happy he’s laughing for no reason, like he can’t believe this is happening.
Donghyuck can’t believe it either.
They don’t phone every night, and that’s the weak excuse Donghyuck keeps close to his heart, the cheap justification he gives to Renjun when, one night, he watches with incredulity as Donghyuck’s phone rings during one of their movie nights and Mark’s name is the one that gets displayed on the screen.
They don’t call each other that often, in truth, but they do talk. Quite a lot, at that.
It starts when Mark leaves Donghyuck’s place, that one heart-wrenching night, and Donghyuck finds himself with a new phone number in his contacts and a new—though quite familiar—follower on Instagram.
It starts when Mark, always the brave one, always forward and uncaring of seeming too eager, responds to one of Donghyuck's stupid Instagram stories of his sister’s new puppy with a spam of heart-eyed emojis.
They don’t go back to being strangers, because in a way, they never were. Not since meeting each other. Not even if their relationship has been for the longest time based on body heat, silences and untold truths. They don’t say it out loud, but it seems like both Donghyuck and Mark agree that it’s time for a change.
An exciting one, if the resulting giddiness in Donghyuck’s mood is to be trusted at all.
“Donghyuck and Mark are what?!”
Donghyuck glares at Renjun, who looks far too pleased with himself to even pretend to feel sorry. He briefly debates whether or not resorting to physical violence is too childish for him, but ultimately, Jisung’s face and the obvious feeling of betrayal written on it disracts him from acting on his impulse.
To an outsider, someone who would know nothing about Donghyuck and Jisung and their shared history, Jisung’s indignation could seem like a bit of an overreaction.
Jisung doesn’t even know Mark, has never met the guy. He came into Donghyuck’s life a few weeks after he had cut ties with the boy. What he knows about Donghyuck’s ex lover/friends with benefits/something, he knows through retelling of stories, second-hand knowledge. He does know however, because he has witnessed it, a past full of Donghyuck’s red and swollen eyes, and his attempts at pretending he was fine and feeling much better already.
Because of it, Donghyuck fully understands the extent of Jisung’s disapproval.
Jisung had come into their life in the form of Renjun’s new roommate and almost instantly carved himself a special place in their friend group. And even though they’d just met, back then, Jisung and he, the younger boy had been the only one to fully witness how bad Donghyuck’s state actually was.
For one, Jisung had been as heartbroken as himself at that time. He was just coming out of a relationship of four years with his high school sweetheart, a relationship that had left him friendless, homeless, and desperate for company. And who was Renjun, whose only relationship with Jisung at the time was polite colleagues who worked at the same grocery store, to deny a vague acquaintance of his help?
Donghyuck and Jisung had found comfort in each other behind closed doors, and had spent plenty of afternoons hidden from Renjun and the rest of the world in Jisung’s small bedroom, where they would sit on the bed and distract themselves. Mostly, they would watch whatever they could find—dramas, Youtube videos, old black and white movies and new blockbusters, documentaries about outer space, true crime series. More often than not, they would find that the more violent, the better. Those afternoons were the only times when Donghyuck was able to fall asleep into a dreamless, peaceful slumber.
They would help each other study, too, and fantasize about getting their degrees and becoming so rich and smart that it would be impossible not to want them. Not to love them.
Jisung had been there to witness Donghyuck’s worst just as Donghyuck had been there to witness Jisung’s worst, and both valued that friendship built on tears and hugs and mending broken hearts more than were able to put it into words.
So, all in all, yes, Donghyuck could see where Jisung’s outraged disbelief was coming from. Mostly.
“We’re not courting each other,” Donghyuck replies, still glaring at Renjun. He takes a sip on his glass of wine to give himself something to do with his hands, and attempts to conceal the sheepishness in his voice. “We’re just talking here and there.”
“Yeah, right,” Renjun snorts next to him. “Because you two have ever just talked.” He says the last words words with exaggerated emphasis, mimicking air quotes with his fingers.
This time, Donghyuck thinks the kick Renjun gets to his shin is perfectly justified and not childish at all.
He doesn’t expect his friends to understand, though maybe they do and they won’t tell.
A love like his, a love that stands on no rational ground, is a love too shameful to be admitted out loud. It’s the love of behind closed doors, it’s the quiet kind, the tragic and mundane all the same, like you see all the time in movie theaters. It’s the kind that makes you cry silently alone in the dark and scoff out loud when the credits roll out and the lights are back on.
It’s childlike, above all, this inability to pinpoint exactly why he loves Mark beyond the obvious: he loves him because he knows him.
Donghyuck thinks that, after all, he’s never been the best at being an adult. And that anyone who would meet Mark, anyone who would know him in the way Donghyuck knows him, would think it enough of a reason.
As they get to know each other all over again, it comes as a shock to remember how much fun it used to be to hang out with Mark. Donghyuck finds that although he remembers a lot from when he was at his worst, there is a lot he’s forgotten and that Mark makes him recall.
Their childish wrestling matches. The gossiping about their mutual friends—and how entertaining Johnny’s love life used to be before he settled down. Reading each other’s uni homework to check for typos. Fighting for who gets to be the little spoon. That one time Mark’s friend left a nail polish bottle at his place and they painted each other’s toe nails. Or that other time when Donghyuck gifted Mark a wild flower he’d picked on the street, and a week later Mark bought Donghyuck a tiny bouquet of white flowers to thank him.
It goes against the whole narrative Donghyuck has created for himself over the years, and yet he’s forced to come to terms with the fact that, indeed, Mark and Donghyuck had been happy once.
He had just forgotten it.
Reconnecting with Mark also means being able to hang out more with the friends they share, and suddenly it seems like Mark’s at every party he’s attending.
“Do you want another one?” Mark gestures at the almost empty drink in his hand, a mixture of beer and soju and whatever else Taeil had fancied adding into the mix, reminiscing about his bartender days.
“I’m good, thanks. I’m not trying to get drunk tonight,” Donghyuck replies, inching closer to Mark so that they can hear each other more clearly over the music.
When Mark scoots even closer and slides an arm across Donghyuck’s shoulders, Donghyuck cannot find it in himself to be upset about the intimacy of the gesture.
It’s a nice evening. Johnny’s house is a bit far from his own place, but the garden and the BBQ possibilities it implies make it all worth it to drag himself to this part of town. Mark’s body is warm on his side, and they haven’t been apart more than an arm’s length since Donghyuck arrived and Mark greeted him with a tipsy smile and two drinks in his hand.
It’s such a nice evening, in fact, that it feels like there’s a lightness surrounding him, an aura of warmth and care and Donghyuck knows that whatever happens tonight, he’ll have to let it happen. It’s in the way Mark’s eyes crinkle when he looks at him, in the way their friends seem to leave them alone, almost, never coming too close, as if they’re afraid to interrupt.
It’s an easy decision to make, only because Mark is the one allowing him to make it.
When Jaehyun starts to sing old R’n’B songs and Johnny joins him on the choruses, they decide to go grab their jackets together, escaping into the dimly lit streets.
“I live pretty close,” Mark announces once they find themselves hesitating on Johnny’s doorstep. The rest goes unsaid. Donghyuck laces their fingers together and lets Mark lead him to his place, making small talk along the way about the events of the night.
It feels like his heart’s stuck in his throat by the time Mark drags him into his apartment and kisses him against the front door, so reminiscent of the first time they have done this, so different in how unreal it feels.
Mark kisses him slow and sweet, hands chastely positioned on Donghyuck’s neck, thumbs tracing the contour of his jaw, until Donghycuk’s a panting mess, legs like jelly and heart expanding, expanding, expanding but never exploding.
“Are you sure?” he asks, even if it kills him to do so, to give Mark an opportunity to change his mind. He asks anyway, because Mark changing his mind is better than being the cause of Mark’s pain all over again.
He doesn’t expect it, however, when Mark shoots his question back to him, a smirk on his lips, and there’s nothing vulnerable about the moment because it’s not about hurting or being hurt. It’s about taking something you want and doing your best to make it right.
Oh, how badly does Donghyuck want.
That night, when they kiss, it doesn’t feel like time running out. Donghyuck bites down on Mark’s lower lip as gently as he can, and instead of skin and beer Mark’s mouth tastes like time stretching out.
And when it ends up with Donghyuck pressing Mark down onto his queen size bed and riding him until his thighs tremble, until Mark flips them around and makes them both come while whispering sweet nothings into Donghyuck’s ear, until he tears up from the alcohol leaving his system and the exhaustion and the pleasure… When it ends up with Donghyuck pressing kisses on Mark’s temples, tasting sweat and underneath it the thrill of satisfaction, Donghyuck realizes he’s much happier than he thought he would be, right there, under Mark.
After they’re done, cum half-assedly wiped off with tissues and condom tossed into the nearest trash, Mark climbs back onto the bed and resumes to his position—on top of Donghyuck, caging his overheated body with his own. They stay like that for a while, Donghyuck spread out on the bed and Mark perched above him, eyes closed, breathing the same suffocating air.
Donghyuck’s legs, bent on either side of Mark’s hips, are starting to seriously ache, and Mark’s post-sex habits seem to have remained the same—entangled bodies and complete silence—but Donghyuck, who used to pliantly comply to Mark’s will, afraid that Mark would leave him as soon as he’d move again, Donghyuck isn’t afraid anymore.
He stretches as well as he can, with a body pressing down on his. Lazily, he slides his hands across Mark’s back once, twice, feeling the soft skin under his fingers—and grimaces a bit at the sweat he gathers there, before resting his hands on the back of Mark’s neck, guiding his head gently to make him face him.
He wants to see Mark better. He never allowed himself to watch, when they were younger, too terrified of getting caught staring.
“I can’t believe you left me hanging last time,” Donghyuck mutters jokingly, tightening his grip on Mark’s nape and bringing him down to kiss him again.
Mark’s lips stay shut against his own, and when Donghyuck, surprised at the sudden coldness, detaches himself to look into Mark’s eyes, he sees the man frowning a little, an unhappy curl on his mouth.
“What is it?” Donghyuck asks, sliding his hands to frame Mark’s jaw with his palms, running both of his thumbs on Mark’s slightly swollen lips, attempting to massage the pout away.
“Last time wasn’t—” Mark starts, and his voice sounds so shaky Donghyuck swears he feels his heart squeeze a little. “I’m sorry for last time but it wouldn’t have been right, you know?”
Oh. Donghyuck is the biggest idiot on earth, it seems. His movements freeze on Mark’s face, and he allows the shame to settle in for a few seconds, taking in how Mark’s gaze is pointedly fixed on Donghyuck’s sternum. Then he sits up a bit, and kisses Mark on the mouth, eyes open, mustering all the tenderness he feels inside his mind and heart for the man above him and trying to tell it all through the kiss.
“’t was a joke,” he murmurs into Mark’s lips. “A bad one. I know. I didn’t mean it,” he adds, and sucks down on Mark’s lower lip, on his tongue, waiting for the words to get to him. Waiting for Mark to forgive him. He feels the shiver that runs down Mark’s spine at his ministrations, and it should be way too soon for his body to feel anything but languidness yet Donghyuck’s back arches to its own accord at the feeling. Above him, Mark groans, and rolls onto his side, detaching from Donghyuck in every way except for the hand he draws to Donghyuck’s stomach.
“I forgot how insatiable you are,” he says in an accusing tone, yet the smile on his lips show that he isn’t mad, yet the fondness in his eyes makes Donghyuck want to cry, just a little.
“’m not,” Donghyuck refutes, mustering his best glare.
And it’s true that he isn’t, not now and not then. He flushes a bit at the thought of what version of him must live in Mark’s memory. It’s something that he’d realized months after leaving Mark, that unconsciously, during their ‘dates’, he’d ask for more sex, again and again, only because it meant Mark staying, only because it meant having Mark’s eyes on him.
It’s an unpleasant feeling, to be reminded of it with Mark right here, still flushed from coming inside him, almost like he had been lying all along. He doesn’t want secrets, but he has a feeling saying all of this now would only hurt them both.
So, instead, he looks at Mark and sticks his tongue out.
And Mark, like the disgustingly hot heathen that he is, surges forward and takes his tongue into his mouth, and sucks on it, hard, mirroring Donghyuck's actions just seconds before.
From there on, it’s only a couple of minutes until their bodies connect for a second time, exchanging sighs and moans like little treasures in the dark.
He finally musters the courage to ask in a frenzied panic. He's desperatly rushing against time as Mark comes back from his bathroom, all dressed up, the ring he’d almost forgotten back on his index finger, ready to leave for work after spending the night over.
“Do you want to go see a movie on Friday night?”
The abruptness with which he blurts out the question, almost as if it had left his mind against his will, surprises both Mark and Donghyuck himself, but at least, he’s done it. The words are out, the choice is Mark’s, the offer is on the table.
Table which he cannot drag his eyes from. To his own defense, it’s a nice table. He had splurged on it back when he had just moved into this apartment after months of hesitating. What he loves the most about it is the color, a dark wooden—
“I’d love to.” The cheesy smile Mark is sporting is evident in his voice, but Donghyuck’s eyes snap up, just to make sure. Because the way his heart clenches at the sight is more than worth it, it’s addicting. He steps forward to hug Mark, humming contently. It’s brief, because Mark really has to leave if he wants to make it on time, but it’s satisfying all the same when Mark squeezes a fraction tighter before letting him go.
“Hey,” Mark calls to him, sweetly, placing his hand under Donghycuk’s chin and leading it up, so they can stare into each other’s eyes. His smile has morphed into a smug expression, and when has Mark being smug ever been meant good news for Donghyuck? He tries to get out of Mark’s grip, but the hold on his chin tightens, and he’s stuck waiting for Mark to say whatever it is that he wants Donghyuck to hear. Mark’s eyes never leave his face, and his smugness never fades, and maybe this would be easier to bear if Donghyuck’s heart wasn’t on the verge of bursting because of an overflowing quantity of love.
“Maybe if you’re nice I’ll let you feel me up at the movies, baby,” Mark promises, at last, planting a quick kiss on Donghyuck’s temple and palming his ass for just one fleeting second—just enough for Donghycuk's body to remember just how good Mark took care of him earlier in the morning—before finally stepping back and leaving for good. The grin he gives Donghyuck as he closes the door can only be described as goofy as hell, further aggravated by the fact that he obviously enjoys witnessing the flush sitting high on Donghyuck’s cheeks. It’s the first time either of them have used pet names, and Donghyuck hates the way his stupid heart races at the stupid, cliché word.
He’s too stunned to react immediately, paralyzed by the whiplash of Mark being tender and a fucking tease all at once. When he catches hold of himself, however, because he can’t let Mark win, he hurries after him, swings his door open and shouts, “In your dreams, sweetheart!”
Mark’s laugh resonates loud and clear into the empty hall, and soft and sweet inside Donghyuck’s head for the rest of the day.
The evening is warm enough that Donghyuck leaves his kitchen window open and leans against it, one eye on the bird building its nest in the tree across the street and one eye on Mark, meticulously doing the dishes while going on and on about something that’s happened at work. Both views are nice, although the nesting bird doesn’t come close to making his heart stutter quite like the angles of Mark’s shoulders does.
It’s a definite improvement from his previous routine, Donghyuck thinks, to get to spend such nice summer nights in the company of Mark. Mark who stubbornly brings dessert they don’t end up eating, Mark who watches him cook and steals kisses as he washes the rice, Mark who plays footsies with him under the table, Mark who insists on cleaning up for the sake of equal domestic labor distribution—not that Donghyuck protests too hard.
It’s a definite improvement of a routine that didn’t even need any improving. It’s a testament of how much Donghyuck has grown, that getting Mark back qualifies as a bonus rather than a goal in itself.
As if he could read his thoughts, Mark suddenly derives from recounting his latest petty argument with his work nemesis to state, “You’ve changed.” Saying so, he turns his head a little to throw a smile at Donghyuck over his shoulder, as if to assure him of the kind intention in his words.
Donghyuck raises his eyebrows. “How?”
It’s not like he disagrees with Mark. He has changed, in more ways than not, and distantly Donghyuck thinks it would be insulting for any person in their late twenties to get told that they don’t differ at least a little from the young adult they used to be. Still, he wasn’t expecting Mark to point it out.
“Hm, hang on, I don’t know how to put it,” Mark replies, tone thoughtful, still scrubbing the oily pan in his hands. The fabric of his T-shirt stretches thin over the muscles of his shoulders at the repeated movement, and Donghyuck wonders, not for the first time, what good deed he must have done either in this life or in his previous ones that he’d get to witness this, that he’d get to spend his summer nights with his lover—with Mark—times and times again. “I feel like you allow yourself to be more open with people? When we were younger, you always came across as confident to people who didn’t know you, but since we spent so much time together I kinda figured out you were faking it,” Mark eventually says, never stopping in his task. “You’re more trusting, I think, less scared of letting people get close to you. Less inside your own head.”
For a while, Mark doesn’t add anything, and Donghyuck simply hums in response, thinking he’ll leave it at that. It’s already incredibly overwhelmingly, to be faced with Mark’s view of him, to be met with the confirmation that not only has he succeeded in becoming a better version of his self but other people have noticed, too. Mark has noticed. As he turns on the tap to rinse off the dishes, Mark speaks up again. “It’s nice, to be allowed into your world.”
The words feel incredibly light as they settle inside Donghyuck’s head, making way inside his heart, imprinting on his eyelids, echoing in his ears. It sounds an awful lot like a confession, not of love but of care, and Donghyuck, he just knows he never stood a chance against Mark.
Thank God he doesn’t have to put up a fight anymore.
So he lets the words lighten his world, he lets the words carry him to the man turning his back to him, he lets himself feel and he lets himself ask for more, which translates to pressing himself to Mark’s back, resting his hands on the man’s stomach.
Mark doesn’t react much, used to Donghyuck’s clinginess by now, but Donghyuck can tell how pleased he is by the way his back subtly moves to accommodate Donghyuck better.
Donghyuck allows for the sweet moment to exist for a while, though ultimately, he cannot resist teasing Mark, not when he knows how candidly his boyfriend lets himself get teased.
“Well, you’ve changed too,” Donghyuck claims, tone full of mirth.
“Really?”
Instead of replying right away, Donghyuck lets his hands drop lower, slipping under Mark’s top and caressing the soft skin of his stomach, teasing touches that stop right above the band of Mark’s briefs. The lack of reaction coming from Mark tells Donghyuck that he must be rolling his eyes at his antics, and the joy of annoying Mark, of being playful with him, only reinforces his desire to mess with his boyfriend.
When he feels goosebumps raising on the skin under his fingers, he decides to take the teasing further, grinding his crotch on Mark’s ass.
“Yeah, really,” he whispers into his ear, and Mark startles, as if he’s forgotten their discussion. The movement makes him push back against Donghyuck’s body, and he uses the opportunity to slide one of his hands to Mark’s neck, feeling up his lean torso along the way. “You got so much hotter,” he adds, and bursts into laughter at the whimper Mark lets out.
Mark takes the opportunity to shove Donghyuck off him, turning off the water and turning around to face him. The tip of his ears are red, and Donghyuck finds it all too endearing not to reach out, gasping when Mark slaps his hand away.
“Stop harassing me. I hate you,” Mark groans, and Donghyuck would probably feel more offended if Mark wasn’t saying this at the same time he was cupping his face into his warm hands, leading him into a chaste kiss.
If Donghyuck were asked to describe the way Mark kisses him, he would say it’s heartbreakingly tender. Then, he would add that he, for one, is done with heartbreaks.
That’s why he deepens the kisses, whenever he can. That’s why he licks into Mark’s mouth and bites on his lips, and only ever feels satisfied when Mark’s panting and flushed and pliant to Donghyuck’s insatiable hunger for him.
And Donghyuck doesn’t see a reason to stop, not when it means getting Mark with flushed cheeks arching into his arms, not when it means that rough kisses will turn to heavy patting and Donghyuck convincing Mark with a few dirty words to let him fuck him right there, bending him over the sink. Not when it means having Mark pushing back on his cock, the skin of his ass red and raw from Donghyuck gripping on it, sparing breathy moans like secrets into Donghyuck’s palm.
Although they’re pretty fair in splitting their nights between the two of their places, Donghyuck likes it best when they both come home to Mark’s apartment after a long day of work. It feels a little like he’s on holiday, to be honest, to sleep in a bed that isn’t his. Perhaps that’s the reason why he likes it so much—and Mark by his side is just a nice perk.
He’s cuddled under the covers, trying not to doze off while waiting for Mark to come back from the bathroom when said man finally gets back into bed, lying on his back and opening his arms to Donghyuck. The latter gladly accepts the invitation, scooting closer and nuzzling his face in the crook of Mark’s neck.
“You’re so soft,” he murmurs, trailing his nose up and down Mark’s neck. There’s the faintest smell of his cologne there, that Mark either forgot to wash off or he didn’t bother to wash entirely—which, admittedly, should be gross but Donghyuck is too tired and cozy to care—and Donghyuck rubs on the patch of skin with his lips. He wants for the citrusy notes to disappear entirely, until all that’s left is Mark’s scent, void of artifices.
“The softest,” he says again, peppering Mark’s jaw with a dozen kisses in between words and a dozen more, for good measure, before scooting down a little and resting his head on Mark’s chest. Donghyuck has picked up on Mark’s habit of sleeping naked by now, no longer afraid of waking up cold and shivering. He’s become addicted to the feeling of Mark’s skin against his.
“Yeah, yeah, I think I got the message,” Mark makes a show of faking exasperation, scoffing loudly, but when Donghyuck raises his head to scold him for disturbing his peace he finds the softest smile on Mark’s lips, always, always, always. There’s no other word to describe it—to describe him. Donghyuck’s love.
Once, during a slightly tipsy talk about the meaning of life and love at Jeno and Jaemin’s place, Renjun asks him if he ever feels like Mark and he were robbed of those years they spent apart when they could have been together, had they communicated properly sooner.
Donghyuck doesn’t even have to think about it before denying. The answer sits clear in his heart, and maybe it’s because of the wine, maybe it’s because he’s so sure of Mark and he’s story, but there’s not doubt in his mind when he says he wouldn’t change a thing.
Because it’s Mark, because it’s him, how could it be different without being heartbreaking? Without betraying their story?
His friends erupt into screams of disgust and fake gagging motions, complaining about how awfully cheesy Donghyuck has become, to which he retorts that Jaemin and Jeno, by virtue of being high school sweethearts, are way more disgusting and cheesy—which in turn leads to more screaming and overall chaos.
Still, when he gets home and finds the love of his life waiting for him on his bed, half-undressed and impossibly warm in spite of it, Donghyuck remembers Renjun’s question, remembers his own answer.
As Mark crawls towards him lazily, perching over the mattress to land a kiss on his sternum through the thin fabric of his shirt, he thinks that so far it’s been worth the hell. And he has a feeling that so it will continue to be.