Chapter Text
Mark is nervous, palms sweaty and tongue itchy, holding a small bundle of carnations by his side. He ran fast, only just wrapped up his tutoring on the other side of the building, and he really should’ve stayed longer but he wanted to come.
Donghyuck doesn’t actually expect him to be there, and Mark hasn’t told him he would be. He’d reminded Mark offhandedly that his concert was tonight while they ate lunch, some of the only time Mark got to talk freely with him, and Mark regretfully told him that he’d try his best, but he wasn’t sure if the times would clash.
Donghyuck came off as over-confident and sure of himself in almost everything he did, but he was modest about the very important things, at least around Mark. So when he told Mark it was no big deal if he couldn’t come, Mark knew it was a Big Deal.
Mark likes Donghyuck. Like likes him. It’s just, they haven’t been able to do anything about it, other than lingering stares and nervous laughter, hands brushing in the hallways, and Donghyuck teasing him by asking things like, “Mark, do I look pretty today?”
Sometimes they study together after school, after private tutoring and extracurriculars, but even then, they can't speak much. They get by on lunch periods together and texting each other whenever their hands are unoccupied, but Mark aches embarrassingly to find more excuses to be with him.
As an example, Mark has started walking Donghyuck home at night. He’ll wait patiently outside the school for him until he appears, excited to get through his studying if only to see Donghyuck by the end of it. It makes him feel better, even if they’re not really anything yet, making sure he gets back safe, being the last person he sees before sleeping. His mother said small gestures like that can say a lot.
So they’re not A Thing, but they are friends. And Mark is happy with that, happy to get to know Donghyuck better.
Mark wanders into the auditorium, finding it half-empty, and heads straight toward the front row. Maybe it’s a little overzealous, but he was aiming for an element of surprise tonight, and that plan wouldn’t fully work if Donghyuck couldn’t even see him.
He avoids his classmates and sits next to an older woman with nobody on either side of her, wearing a pair of reading glasses as she looks down at her phone. He lay his flowers, all three of them, on his lap and bounces his leg as he waits, more people trickling in.
The woman locks her phone, gives him a look. He stops.
“Sorry,” he says, bowing his head.
“You must be excited,” she says with an amused expression.
“Oh. Yes, I am,” he agrees, as it’s easier to agree than explain his 4 cups of instant coffee and a crush the size of Jupiter. “Actually, a friend of mine is performing.”
She hums in understanding. “How nice,” she says. “My son is, too. He normally doesn’t like it when I come to these things, but he has a solo he’s proud of. Really, he just wants me to take his video so he can watch it back later. My children are like this.”
Mark chuckles in response, nerves momentarily forgotten about, and the lights start dimming. The crowd goes quiet as the curtains are drawn, revealing a two-tiered choir with their director in the middle. He must have it bad, he thinks, because his eyes are drawn to Donghyuck immediately, even in the line of boys who all wear the same black suit.
There are lots of things to like about Donghyuck, he's realized over the past few weeks. And here, staring up at him from the front row, he thinks he likes just about everything. He likes the way Donghyuck looks with his hair parted like that. He likes the crooked tilt of his jaw when he sings, finds it alarmingly endearing. He likes the way the hot overhead lighting gives Donghyuck a slight sheen, bouncing off his skin when he turns his head to look around the crowd.
Polite applause echos through the audience when the first set ends. Mark is holding his breath when Donghyuck finally notices him, wants to smother himself when he raises his hand in a slight wave. Donghyuck gawks at him, eyes wide as they flicker between Mark and somewhere off to his left, before looking down with a barely contained smile. Mark doesn’t know what it means, but it’s cute, whatever the reason. His head is sort of spinning from the reaction. He made Donghyuck smile like that.
When his solo comes, Mark tries hard not to do something stupid like gasp, but he can’t help but do it anyways — just super quietly. His eyes glaze over by the time another student starts singing, and not for the first time, Mark thinks about kissing Donghyuck.
After the show ends, Mark takes his time walking toward the exit. He clears his throat repeatedly in case it’s gone dry, can’t imagine the humiliation of his voice cracking when he sees Donghyuck.
What does he even say? Should he hug him? They’re not really the hugging type. But this was as good a reason as any to have their first hug, right?
He’s spit out into the lobby, holding onto his elbow nervously as he looks around. Parents are milling about, putting their coats and purses back on, greeting their children as they meet. He suddenly wonders if Donghyuck’s parents are here, too, but the thought disappears when he notices Donghyuck walking briskly into the lobby. He’s already in his coat, a long black puffer that reaches mid-thigh, and he’s looking around his peers like he’s searching for something specific. He lights up when he sees Mark, and they meet somewhere in the middle.
“Hi,” he says, smiling. “You actually came?”
“Yeah, I didn’t wanna miss it,” Mark says, clearing his throat again. “You were really good. Your solo was even better than practiced.”
They’re joined suddenly by the same woman Mark sat next to earlier, looking peeved with Donghyuck, who doesn’t seem to notice her. “Donghyuck-ah, you left your backpack. Why did you run like that?”
Donghyuck jumps, looking over his shoulder, glaring at the woman wildly.
“I’m talking to my friend,” he says.
Mark glances at the woman with a friendly, confused smile. “Ah, you must be Mark Lee.”
“Yes, that’s me — I’m Mark Lee.” He bows.
“Mark, this is my mom. The lady you sat next to out of 100 other people in the audience.”
Mark scratches the back of his head, realizing that under careful consideration they looked exactly alike.
“I had no idea,” Mark blushes. He bows again. “It’s very nice to meet you, Mrs. Lee.”
“Very nice to meet you as well,” she says, then turns back to her son. “We need to leave soon, the sitter can’t stay all night.”
Donghyuck blinks away from the gaze he’s got locked on Mark. “Yeah, can I just say goodbye to Mark? Privately?”
She looks at him carefully, and Donghyuck stares back, communicating silently until she waves a hand in the air. “Five minutes. I’ll go start the car.”
She walks out the front doors of the school, and Donghyuck sighs in relief.
He grabs Mark's sleeve and leads him around a corner, unoccupied by other students. “Are those for me, or your other choir friend I don’t know about?” He says, grinning down at Mark’s hands.
Mark remembers the flowers he brought, wrapped lamely with a red bow.
“Yeah, they’re for you,” he says, sticking his hand out. Donghyuck takes them, his fingers brushing Mark’s own. “I’m sorry it isn’t more, I’m kinda broke.”
Donghyuck giggles. Actually giggles. Mark is enamored.
“Donghyuck-ie,” Mark says, blush high on his cheeks. The words he’d been thinking spill out of him. “You’re already golden, but under stage lights, you really looked like an angel.”
All the air rushes out of Donghyuck, staring at Mark with a look he can’t put a name to, yet.
His fingers grasp the lapels of Mark’s jacket, stems of his carnations slightly bent from his grip, and reels him in til they’re a breath apart. Mark’s eyes drift to his mouth, barely able to take a breath of air before Donghyuck is kissing him.
Donghyuck’s lips are soft, a little sticky from the vaseline he’s constantly reapplying, and he makes the cutest sound when Mark returns the kiss.
It feels natural kissing Donghyuck, despite the way his hands tremble where he holds onto Mark’s jacket. Mark holds onto his wrists gently for reassurance, leaning forward like he can’t get close enough.
Donghyuck pulls away with a soft gasp, collecting his breath. Mark stares at him like he knows he’ll speak first, wants to follow whatever lead Donghyuck gives him.
“I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time,” he says, still not letting go of him. He meets his stare, awaiting Mark’s response.
“Me too,” Mark says immediately.
“I’ve never actually liked someone this much,” Donghyuck continues. “It’s hasn’t even been that long, but I really like you, Mark.”
“I like you, too,” Mark wishes he could do more than just repeat back everything Donghyuck says, but he’s pretty sure all cognitive functions have been temporarily discontinued since Donghyuck kissed him.
Donghyuck smiles, seeming a bit more relaxed at the confirmation. He bites his lip. “You’re so cute,” he says, finally letting go. He looks down at the flowers, which are slightly crooked now. “Sorry.”
“I’ll happily sacrifice some carnations to kiss you again.”
Donghyuck laughs, laces his fingers through Marks and squeezes them reassuringly.
“My mom is waiting on me,” he sighs. “And it’s way too tempting not to keep kissing you. So I should go.”
Mark nods, only a little disappointed. “Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Donghyuck separates their hands, waving at him coyly before taking off. After only a few moments of Mark contemplating how great life is, Donghyuck comes back down the same hallway.
“Okay, sorry, just one more,” he says, holding the sides of Mark’s face and kissing him. Donghyuck sighs, smiling at him, and says goodbye for real this time.
_________________________________________
Donghyuck surprises Mark once again with a text on Saturday morning, two weeks after their first kiss, asking Mark if he’d like to go on a date. Where Mark preferred to express his feelings for Donghyuck through words or paid compliments, he was realizing Donghyuck was more the type to show his feelings through actions.
Words left him fumbling or blushing, lacking control over the situation, but he could easily shut Mark up with a kiss.
Mark is not complaining. Rather, he’s grateful for Donghyuck’s gestures. Though he’s never been more sure that he likes someone, he’s positive that he’d never know what to do with a boy like Donghyuck unless given explicit instructions. And Donghyuck lays it out clear. Meet me here, text me good morning, kiss me there. And Mark was an excellent rule follower, which made their dynamic that much easier.
Since his choir concert, Mark has kissed Donghyuck every day (except for Sundays). After walking Donghyuck to his house, hands clammy from being pressed together so long, they’d share a goodnight kiss on his front steps, each one stored in Mark’s brain for safe-keeping.
Just on Friday, he’d surprised Mark by kissing him with tongue for the first time, pressed against Donghyuck’s front door. Mark had reacted, of course, embarrassingly. But Donghyuck must have found it cute, if his following laughter meant anything. Safe to say, they were a little obsessed with kissing, and now Mark had plans to see Donghyuck outside of school, where the likelihood of kissing seemed once again promising.
They meet in their town’s shopping district. Mark’s already waiting outside when Donghyuck’s mom pulls over beside the curb. Donghyuck hops out of the minivan as soon as she’s braked, his stormy expression clear even in the dark. He turns back to continue an inaudible conversation, posture defensive, but he smiles when turns around and sets his eyes on Mark.
“Hey,” Donghyuck says, suddenly peppy, slamming the car door shut behind him. He’s got a nondescript plastic bag dangling from his hand, uses his unoccupied fingers to rake through his hair, shaking his bangs into place. “Have you been waiting long?”
“Not drastically, I walked here and overestimated it,” Mark laughs, nervous. “The weather’s nice, though.”
“We must’ve hit every red light on the way here,” he says, again trying to smile through his annoyance. “Probably because my mom refuses to drive one mile over the speed limit.”
Mark smiles down at him reassuringly. “It’s all good,” he shrugs, then looks back at the van, still stalled with the headlights on. He waves from over Donghyuck’s shoulder when he notices his mom watching the pair closely.
Donghyuck groans and takes him by the wrist, leading Mark inside.
“My mom was being so annoying on the drive over here,” he mutters. “She really thinks we’re just gonna make out or whatever all over the private room, as if I don’t know how unsanitary that is.”
Mark chokes. “She knows?”
“Of course she knows. I told her about our first kiss when I got back to the car. No point in hiding it, she knew as soon as she saw me,” he laughs, then gets distracted by the kid at the front desk who rents them a room. “My mom said we have two hours.”
“Oh, wait,” Mark says, shaking himself out of his stupor. He pats his pockets looking for his wallet. “I’ll pay.”
It’s his dad’s card, he’d lent it to him when he found out Mark finally had plans. Then his dad called his mom, and she embarrassingly congratulated him while he got ready.
“Mark, please, I invited you.”
“Yes, and you did the hard work picking out the time and location, which is why I should pay.”
“I don’t think that’s how it works, Mark,” Donghyuck says. The employee clears their throat, slumped over the front counter impatiently. Donghyuck pointedly ignores them.
“Please?” Mark asks, eyes wide. “I really want to pay.”
Donghyuck’s lips twist into a smile. “Okay, fine, you can pay,” he says, like it wasn’t all that hard of a decision. It’s not very expensive to rent a room, actually, but he figures it’s a nice gesture for a date.
Mark hands the guy his card, and Donghyuck leans against the counter, snickering.
“Tell your dad I say thanks,” he says, once the transaction is cleared.
“Like you weren’t gonna pay with your mom’s card,” he frowns, following behind Donghyuck as they walk to their assigned room. “Neither of us have jobs."
Donghyuck laughs, loud and bright.
“I was actually going to use my allowance money,” Donghyuck says. “But, hey, your dad’s salary definitely beats mine.”
Mark chuckles. Fair enough.
There’s a ton of seating within their room, able to hold much more than just two of them. Mark picks a seat on the smallest couch, and Donghyuck joins him a moment later, sitting on the edge of his cushion. He rests his plastic bag on the table in front of them, rifling through its contents to pull out a variety of snacks. Bottled drinks, bento boxes, packaged gimbap.
“Since we’re both broke,” Donghyuck explains. “I just got us some stuff from 7-11. Maybe we can do a real dinner another day.”
Mark’s eyes stretch wide at all the food in front of him. “Woah! This looks so good,” he says, opening a bento box enthusiastically.
“It does?” Donghyuck asks, incredulous as Mark digs in. “Mark, who’s cooking for you at home?”
Mark thinks briefly, chewing on a mouthful of grilled pork belly. “My dad and I can’t cook, so mostly Yogiyo keeps us alive.”
“Oh,” Donghyuck frowns. “Well…you’ll have to try my cooking soon, it’s much better than this.”
“I’d love that,” Mark says, genuine.
They lean toward each other naturally as they speak and share food, knees knocking into each others.
“I thought this would be a good place for us to meet outside school,” Donghyuck says, hand shielding his mouth while he eats. “It’s more private this way. Plus, I’ve never heard you sing, even though you’ve heard me a bunch of times.”
“I like listening to you sing,” Mark says. “This is sort of the perfect first date for us, I think.”
“I was hoping you’d think so.”
Mark grins. “Pretty much any excuse to spend time with you works for me.”
Donghyuck averts his eyes. A simple compliment was still enough to send him into silence, and maybe Mark did it on purpose sometimes, if only to see him blush. It was a good silence, though, flustering him as he thinks about what to say next.
Mark takes the moment of quiet to admire him, takes in the smaller details of his outfit, the dainty rings on his fingers and dangly earrings, well-fitted jeans so different from the school slacks they have to wear. He even smells pretty, notes of floral and citrus sticking to his clothes and hair.
“So, um, did you ever go to noraebang in New York?” Donghyuck finally says, looking back at Mark again.
“Oh, a bunch, actually. They’re all over Koreatown, and all my friends were huge theater nerds so, y’know. There’s a lot of nightlife where I live. Lived,” he says. “We’d also go to like, arcades, and…um.”
Mark pauses when he makes eye contact with Donghyuck. He’s looking at Mark with wide eyes, nodding along attentively to what he’s saying, and Mark’s brain screeches to an official halt.
He looks so cute.
His lips are pouted, shiny with sesame oil and crazy enticing, and he’s still got the remnants of a blush dusting a pretty pink hue high on his cheeks. Mark can only look at him, now, forgetting what he was going to say.
“And?” Donghyuck asks, hint of a smile.
“What?”
“Noraebang, arcades, and…?” Donghyuck trails off, just like Mark did.
“I don’t even remember,” Mark says, then breaks out into a nervous fit of giggles. “Sorry.”
“That’s okay.”
Donghyuck leans forward slowly, and Mark watches him with bated breath, but Donghyuck stops short, arm reaching past his elbow to grab something behind him. He sits back against the couch with a binder in his lap, now completely turned away from Mark.
“We should look for songs,” he says, simply, opening the book to a random page. “I’ll sing first, let you warm up your vocal cords.”
Mark nods, heart skipping. “Kay.”
He hasn’t failed to notice that Donghyuck hasn’t tried kissing him once tonight. Maybe he really was serious about it being unsanitary in here. Which, yeah, Mark wasn’t a huge fan of thinking about that either. But also, kissing? That seemed nice. Especially in a private room.
“What would you like to see?” Donghyuck asks, seeming confident. "A ballad, something up-beat? I can do anything.”
“A ballad, definitely,” Mark says. “Your voice suits them well.”
Donghyuck looks at him, and both of them smile.
“Okay, then. I like Taeyeon-sunbaenim, I think I’ll go with her,” he decides.
He picks a song Mark’s unfamiliar with, but that doesn’t matter because any song Donghyuck sings automatically becomes his song, and the original artist is consequently irrelevant.
Mark’s enraptured, as always. If his personality was what made Mark like him, Donghyuck’s voice is what made him fall for him completely. His friends back home would absolutely roast the living shit out of him if they heard him say anything like that.
He forgets about the food, or picking his own song, or really much of anything, admiring Donghyuck’s singing while he tucks his hands between his knees and just watches. Donghyuck finishes the song with ease, bowing dramatically as the music fades.
“How was what?” He asks, only a little out of breath.
“How do I follow that up?” Mark asks, eyes wide.
“I’m interested in finding that out, too,” Donghyuck says, cocky as he waltzes back over to couch. He sits down, close enough so that their thighs are pressed together. “I don’t have flowers but, maybe if you’re really good, I’ll have a post-performance prize for you?”
Mark is surprised only briefly. Donghyuck had been withholding his kisses as a reward.
“Okay — yes,” he says. He grabs the binder Donghyuck had set aside, flipping through the pages in determination. He purses his lips in deep thought. “Should I sing in Korean or English?”
“Whatever you think will impress me the most,” Donghyuck says. He seems relaxed now that his turn is over with. He grabs a piece of grilled meat with his chopsticks, lukewarm now, cheeks puffed up while he chews.
Mark skims through his options, trying to find more Western artists, but finds the only English music that they have are ballads.
“I wonder if they have our song?” Mark asks, voice laced with innocent curiosity.
Donghyuck squeaks, covering his mouth as he chews. “We have a song?”
“Adele, remember? I’d say us singing it together the first time we met constitutes it being our song,” he says, glancing at the boy. “Don’t you?”
Donghyuck can only nod, smiling into his hand.
“I’m not much of a ballad singer though,” he says. “All the English songs I know here are really serious. I wish I knew more popular Korean songs.”
Donghyuck leans in, peering over his shoulder to look at his options. “What about that playlist I shared with you?” He asks, lips pouted again.
Mark blinks in remembrance.
Donghyuck had been horrified to hear about Mark’s depressing lack of knowledge of Korean music, especially pop music. Donghyuck was hugely into Kpop, grew up wanting to be an idol, and he had a cute habit of breaking into song when he was in a good mood.
And while it was very cute, Mark would usually just stare at him blankly, a confused little smile on his face when Donghyuck wouldn’t let up.
After too many of instances of this, Donghyuck created and shared a playlist with him, titled Kpop Songs Mark Lee Needs To Know!!! with a modest 78 songs included.
“Oh, right,” Mark says, staring hard at the binder while Donghyuck scrutinizes his reaction. He had listened to the playlist, he definitely had. He just skipped all the ones he didn’t instantly like. Finally, he sees a song he remembers the name of, grabbing the remote urgently. “I think I liked this one!”
“You think?” Donghyuck asks with a sharp tongue. “I listened to your American hip-hop playlist, Mark, and you can’t listen to something as vital as my collection of the nation’s best pop anthems? I tidied it up as much as I could without losing anything too important, I mean, that was the brief version!”
Mark avoids eye contact. “I listened, I promise! I just, uh, forgot until right now.”
He stands up quickly, holding the microphone in front of him with blind confidence. Donghyuck raises an eyebrow when he sees the song choice.
“Of course you liked Exo,” he says, offering no explanation, as the abrupt intro to Call Me Baby begins playing.
Mark jumps up and down a few times, hyping himself up, yelling along with the intro.
Donghyuck crosses his legs as he sinks back into the cushions, watching Mark in amusement. His front teeth bite down on his lip to tamper a smile.
Mark’s eyes gets caught on the movement, staring at his lips until he realizes he’s missed his first few lines. He looks toward the screen for lyrical direction.
“Oh shit,” he says, voice echoing through the mic. “I’m lost."
Donghyuck folds forward in silent laughter, and Mark’s head is spinning telling him to get it together for his damn flowers.
Finally, he remembers where he’s supposed to be, keeping his posture natural while trying to follow the songs rhythm. He realizes, standing in front of this screen, on ugly carpeted floors, that he hasn’t performed in over a year. No recitals, or birthday karaoke, or living room performances. He’d grown up his whole life surrounded by music and he hadn’t been around it in a long time.
He looks at Donghyuck happily, and finds Donghyuck staring back. He’s still smiling like he’s trying not to, eyes alight with something that Mark again can’t place. He finds it a great motivator anyhow, bobbing along and gesturing ridiculously as he keeps singing. Donghyuck squirms in his seat like he doesn’t know what to do with his fondness, rests his elbows on his knees and covers his mouth with hand.
The performance feels like it goes on forever, voice hoarse by the final chorus. He didn’t remember it seeming this long when he listened to it while studying. He finishes the song to find a fully pink Donghyuck clapping for him.
Mark exhales in a rush, dropping down to the couch with a smile. “Yo, that was tiring!”
He throws an arm over his forehead, and Donghyuck moves closer, boldly grabbing Mark’s arm so he can drape it over his shoulders instead.
“Is there anything you’re not good at?” Donghyuck asks, staring at Marks profile.
Mark laughs, stares at him incredulously. “That’s funny, coming from you.”
“I’m serious. You have great charisma performing,” Donghyuck swallows, and Mark can’t believe that did anything for him. “You looked hot.”
“Thanks,” Mark clams up, eyes darting between his eyes and lips. “Did I earn flowers?”
Donghyuck leans in, fingers delicately touching his cheek.
“More than flowers,” Donghyuck says, kissing his cheek, lips soft against his skin when he whispers, "I really like you, Mark.”
They kiss, sinking back into the couch, forgetting all unsanitary possibilities. Mark uses his leverage on Donghyuck’s shoulders to pull him in even closer. Despite best intentions, they run out of time to sing another song.
_________________________________________
Donghyuck is different as an older brother.
Him being an older bother in and of itself is shocking to Mark, having fully expected him to be an only child, so imagine Mark’s surprise at finding he has three younger siblings.
In some aspects, he’s just as Mark would expect: sarcastic, strict, vaguely annoyed at any given moment. But he’s also innately nurturing, the same way he is toward Mark the more time they spend together, always softer around the edges with him than any of their classmates.
He’s good at suggesting activities that he knows will keep them entertained. He puts on the right video when his youngest brother shows signs of an oncoming tantrum. He cooks for them, knows all their favorite foods and which ones they currently hate.
And they love him, naturally following him (and consequently Mark) all around the house, laying across Donghyuck’s lap and asking what they’re doing today, like it was implied they were invited to whatever business Mark and him were attending to.
Usually business that was not appropriate for children, but also occasionally, studying.
Donghyuck tells Mark it’s because he’s not home very often that they cling to him so closely, apologizes when they can never get a moment alone.
Mark finds himself there again anyways, forgetting all the headaches for a moment spent with Donghyuck outside of school. He’d texted him earlier that day that he was bored and home alone.
That would usually be a clear invitation to come over or call him, but Donghyuck informed him that his mom was visiting his aunt in the city and he was stuck as babysitter for the day.
Mark:
Need help?
Mark was really no expert on children. He actually knew little to nothing about them. He was the youngest of two, had no cousins, and generally got nervous when left alone with them at church or dinner parties, afraid they’d say something oddly specific and hurtful about his appearance or injure themselves doing something reckless and require his aid.
But this was different, because these children were related to Donghyuck, and he’d already had those things happen at his house and survived just fine. He was even becoming used to it.
Donghyuck:
No
But I wouldn’t mind company
:)
Mark sits on the sectional in Donghyuck’s living room, sandwiched between Donghyuck’s sister, Miyeon, and Donghyuck himself, who keeps shushing Miyeon whenever she asks a question too personal. His brothers are on the floor, splitting their time between playing with Legos and spontaneously racing each other.
A timer goes off in the kitchen, and Donghyuck squeezes his knee, telling him he’ll be right back. His brothers, 5 and 8, spring up from the floor as he walks to the kitchen, running after him.
“I’m going to finish your dinner, so stay here,” he says, turning them both around by the shoulders. “Donghyun, entertain our guest — play him what you learned on piano. And please, don’t ask him anything weird.” He says the last bit to Miyeon, who crosses her arms.
Donghyun cleans off a variety of blankets and textbooks from their piano bench, sitting tall, toes just barely reaching the pedals.
His brother plays well for his age, only a little clumsy, starting over a few times. Mark doesn’t recognize what he’s playing, but he bobs along anyway.
Seemingly bored of the show, Miyeon gets up, standing in the middle of the living room.
“Oppa, watch me!” She demands, suddenly doing a cartwheel clear across the room. She stands there proudly when she’s finished, awaiting a response with hands on her hips.
Mark claps uncertainly.
“Nice.”
From the other side of the room, the youngest, Dongsoo, starts singing over his brother’s piano melody.
“I told you to entertain him, not torture him!" Donghyuck yells from the other room.
“It’s cool,” Mark yells back, then stands up, gaining all their attention. “What other kinds of music do you like? Maybe I can play something for you guys.”
His sister leans against the piano with her arms crossed. “They’re babies. They just like cartoons and dumb nursery rhymes.”
“I’m not a baby! I’m 8!” His brother says, frown eerily similar to Donghyuck’s. “I like Michael Jackson, like hyung.”
His sister rolls her eyes.
“He just copies everything we do.”
Mark tries not to laugh. “I know some Michael Jackson songs,” he tells them. Donghyun flies off the bench and Mark takes his spot, pressing a few keys in practice before playing Beat It. It was a popular choice in his house growing up, a page they kept bookmarked in their The Essential: Michael Jackson songbook, propped open atop the electric keyboard.
His brothers start dancing immediately, singing made up lyrics. Mark looks up once he’s comfortable playing, making abrupt eye contact with a skeptical Miyeon.
“Why are you always here?” She asks, like it’s been on her mind. “My brother doesn’t have friends over. Actually, he doesn’t have friends at all.”
“Oh…um,” Mark stutters, fingers fumbling over the keys. “We became close recently, I guess.”
“Are you his boyfriend?” She asks. “Because if so, that’s not fair. My mom wouldn’t even let my boyfriend visit the house, and you’re here unsupervised.”
“You’ve had a boyfriend?” Mark asks in shock. "Aren't you 12?"
A disgruntled Donghyuck walks into the room.
“We’re supervising you, and I told you not to ask dumb questions.” He scoops up Dongsoo in the middle of his dancing, glancing at Mark with urgent eyes. “Mark, can you help me in the kitchen?”
“Sure,” he says, fingers lifting off the keys immediately, his performance over.
“It’s obvious!” Miyeon yells after them, as Mark leaves the living room, voice even higher than Donghyuck’s. “I saw you two kissing!”
Donghyuck groans. He plops his brother into a seat at their kitchen’s dining table, the young boy accepting his sudden location change without protest. Donghyuck puts a portion of kimchi fried rice in front of him, decorated with bite sized chunks of spam and ketchup. He slides his iPad near him for good measure, as well.
“Make sure you eat all of that,” Donghyuck tells him. Dongsoo ignores him, opening his iPad and shoveling a spoonful of rice into his mouth. Donghyuck looks at Mark, sighs. “He’s going through his picky eater phase.”
“Same,” Mark says, smiling cheekily. He follows Donghyuck closely when he walks back to the kitchen island. “What did you need help with, by the way? I’m not the best cook but I can like, pour stuff.”
Donghyuck laughs, dumping freshly rinsed greens onto a cutting board.
“Nothing,” he whispers. “I just decided Miyeon shouldn’t be near you.”
“Oh? She’s funny though.” He grins, then remembers the last thing she asked him, stomach fluttering with nerves. It had definitely been on his mind.
Donghyuck and him had never disclosed what they were, never gave anything a label. They were new to this, Mark was uncertain of walking too fast and tripping, but he knew he liked Donghyuck so much it had him doing ridiculous things like scribbling lyrics to love songs in his notebooks and fantasizing about kissing sauce off of Donghyuck’s lips in the middle of lunch.
They walk like a couple, talk like a couple, so they must be a couple. Right?
“Try insufferable,” he scoffs. “You don’t have to come here again, I swear, we’ll just meet at yours.”
Mark licks his lips, suddenly nervous. Now that he’s thought about, he had to set the words into motion.
“I don’t mind, Donghyuck,” he says. “Actually, she was asking some important questions.”
Donghyuck pauses mid-chop, glancing at Mark from his peripheral.
“Really?” He says, breath shortening as he anticipates what Mark will say next. He resumes what he was doing with robotic accuracy, trying to appear casual. “Like what?”
Mark puts his hand on his waist, squeezes him lightly til Donghyuck looks at him, setting down his knife.
“Like, are you my boyfriend?” He asks.
Donghyuck stops breathing, wiping his wet hands thoughtlessly on his jeans. “Not that I’m aware of,” he says, voice low. “Not yet.”
“Would you be?” He asks, eyes glittering with hope.
Donghyuck nods, movements jerky. “Yes,” he whispers. He’s malleable from the shock, moves easily when Mark pulls him against his chest, kissing him softly, over and over. Mark tries to drown himself in the moment, wants to remember every smell and every sound and every soft touch Donghyuck gives to him, cool fingers dragging down his neck and gripping onto his shoulders, leaning up on his tip-toes to press against Mark even harder.
Mark jumps, hand knocking into a metal colander in surprise when a voice interrupts them. It clatters onto the floor, vegetables on the counter following suit.
“I’m telling mom,” Miyeon says ominously, half her body hidden behind the doorway. An onion rolls to the floor with a dull thud. Donghyuck glowers at his sister as Mark bends to pick up his mess.
“I’m eighteen, she doesn’t care,” he says. “Now get out so I can finish slaving over your dinner.”
Miyeon scowls.
“Fine, whatever,” he says, defeated. “You’re welcome, by the way.”
_________________________________________
Despite attending church with his mother and father his entire life, Mark had never truly found a religion that he completely and totally subscribed to. Nothing had clicked for him in the Catholic Church, but he believed in everything just a little, so his mind was always open to consider new possibilities. He believed in astrology, and fate, and reincarnation, and aliens, and manifestation, and heaven and hell.
He also questioned the validity of all those things when his eyes started glazing over in class, or when he walked back home alone with his music playing. Everything was real and nothing was real, really, he’s pretty sure it all has to do with what you want to believe.
Regardless, he’s also pretty sure that whatever Godly force was indeed real and out there was actively working against him and his boyfriend from having a normally functioning relationship.
Teenagers in the movies have it so easy. He wishes he could dedicate his time to nothing but DonghyuckDonghyuckDonghyuck, skipping class and sneaking out, taking walks in pretty places while talking for hours, holding hands on a set of swings while confessing their undying love to each other. He’d had some fantasies, yeah, none of which could become reality for him. Not without suffering major consequences, like getting denied from his top university choices, and in return disappointing his parents and Donghyuck. (Mostly Donghyuck. His mother would be thrilled if he came back home.)
Every day, Mark attends high school (he’s used to that part) to then attend cram school (he’s less used to that) to then go back to his high school, just to study some more (impossible — Mark doesn’t even think his high school in New York would let him enter the building past 8 pm) until his alarm would go off, signaling for him to pack up and wait for Donghyuck in front of the school.
He tells his mom this when she calls to talk, brooding over how he hasn’t had time to properly sit down with his own boyfriend in weeks because of their schedules colliding, and how his brain hurt and his back was acting up again and he was homesick, just a little.
His mother, faithful as she was, told him to see this instead as a test of their strength. Rather than some God working against them, they were trying to get them to see what was really important and valuable in life, other than grades or success. This was also, in her words, a beautiful time to learn the balance of work and pleasure.
Sure.
Mark thinks to himself he must be half-way in love with Donghyuck (fine, maybe completely) because even after the hellscape of a schedule he encounters daily, he’ll still walk Donghyuck home, drag his tired feet the opposite direction, fall into a soft pair of pajamas — only to ring Donghyuck up on FaceTime so that they can catch up some more together while they help each other study, until they call it quits and go to bed.
He guesses his mom is right, because he’d do all of that all over again — has done so and will continue to until they graduate — just to see Donghyuck again, comforted in knowing both of them are genuinely working their asses off to get into good schools and that this will all be a distant memory one day.
Until then, life continues, so Mark tries to bask in the less stressful moments. His favorite being lunch with Donghyuck, where he’s completely learned to tune out the rest of the world and their ignorant classmates and just focus on his boyfriend.
Mark listens to Donghyuck talk about an assignment for his music class, and Mark tells a story about how he wore his sweater inside out for the better part of the day until some girl took pity on him in the halls and told him. As their lunch period nears an end, they promise to get something to eat that evening, before cram school started.
Mark’s last class ends, helping to tidy up the classroom before waiting outside the school with his earphones in. He waits, stomach growling, and keeps waiting, before finally texting Donghyuck.
Mark:
hey!
are you here?
He frowns at his phone as the text is read, his boyfriend taking a long few minutes before responding.
Donghyuck:
Hi
Sorry
I had to go home earlier than expected
Mark’s frown deepens. That was new. Donghyuck was a punctual person, especially when it came to academics. Even if he was ill he’d throw a mask on and come to class, anyways.
okay, i’ll see you tomorrow?
He walks alone, popping into the convenience store to grab a quick snack. He sits in class until his brain starts spitting the information back out into his notebook, rejecting anything new. He’s worried about Donghyuck, disappointed that he wouldn’t get to see him again today and also curious as to why he would skip after-school studies.
Hopefully nothing drastic. Maybe it was something simple, like one of his younger siblings needing to be babysat, or a doctor’s appointment he forgot about.
The walk back to his high school is dark. Mark listens to the godforsaken Kpop playlist and enjoys himself, humming idly.
He stops dead in his tracks when he finds Donghyuck waiting outside the school. Or at least, he thinks that’s Donghyuck. He’s not sure of it until he gets closer, the far away figure a little fuzzy around the edges, and blinks in astonishment when he’s positive its him.
Donghyuck is still in his uniform like he'd never left, sitting on the retaining wall in the school’s front garden, his backpack on the ground near his feet. There are two iced drinks next to him.
He smiles when he sees Mark.
“Hey,” Mark says, smiling back, albeit confusedly. “I thought you left?”
“I did for a little while. My mom called me and told me she was in the parking lot, so we went for a drive. We had to talk about stuff,” he explains vaguely. “And then she asked if I wanted to go back home or come here, and I said here. She even got us boba, as a gift,” he explains, picking up both drinks to clear a spot for Mark. He waves them enticingly in the air.
“A gift? What’s the occasion?” Mark asks, sitting down next to Donghyuck, who shoves a cup into his hands. Mark takes a sip, humming in approval.
Donghyuck kicks his feet out, obviously trying to seem more laidback than his tense posture gave away, looking down at the grass while he speaks.
“Well, you see, if you think I’m bad with emotions, my mother’s even worse,” he says. “So gifts are usually only for pretty shitty occasions.”
“I don’t think you’re bad with emotions —.”
“For instance, this boba is a, ‘sorry your father and I are getting a divorce, here’s an overpriced drink for you and your boyfriend,’ type of gift.”
Mark’s eyes widen. “Divorce?”
He knows Donghyuck’s parents had been fighting a lot, it’s one of the reasons he never seemed particularly upset to wind up at school extra late or take detours walking home. But he didn’t think divorce was on the horizon, since Donghyuck never expressed anything to that degree.
“It’s when parents stop loving each other and decide to get unmarried. You ever heard of it?” Donghyuck says smartly, sipping his drink.
Mark ignores the joke. He looks at Donghyuck like he’s checking he’s still all there, the other boy getting flustered under close-inspection. “Are you okay?” He asks, softly.
“I’m fine,” he says. “She picked me up with my siblings still in the backseat and we went to this park. She told them to go play while we talked, and I was confused, like — why did I ditch school for this? And then she just told me: my dad is divorcing her.”
“Wow.”
“It’s fucked. First of all, why tell me there? I had really fond memories of that place,” he mutters. “And then like, second, the fucking audacity of my dad. To divorce her. She put up with so much of his shit.”
Mark nods, rubbing a hand on Donghyuck’s back. Donghyuck’s family was far from perfect. Not that you’d ever know that from the outside looking in. The family portraits on the wall were convincing, the neat garden beds next to their front porch and chalk drawings on the driveway painted a pleasant home.
“I'm so sorry,” he says, pulling him into a hug. Donghyuck makes a disconcerted noise before freezing.
“Don’t,” he says, just barely, pulling back. He makes sure not to look at Mark’s face. “Don’t be all comforting like that or I’ll do something stupid, like cry.”
“You can cry,” Mark says.
“I hate crying.”
“Sure, no one really likes it, but sometimes it’s necessary.”
“Why on earth would be it be necessary?” Donghyuck snaps, “I don’t need to cry to feel better, it’ll just make me feel worse.”
If his sudden tone surprises Mark, he tries not to show it.
“Plus, y’know, I already feel better,” he continues, like he’s trying to convince them both. He sucks up jelly boba, crushing a mouthful under his molars before continuing. “It’s been unbearable living with them this long. The only thing I’m worried about is the little ones. For now, she’s telling them he’s on a work trip.”
“Where is he, actually?” Mark asks, cautiously curious. “And why did she tell you alone?”
“Maybe a hotel, maybe my grandparents house, I don’t know. And she told me because she tells me everything. I’m the oldest, and we’re close even if we argue,” he says. Then quieter, like a confession, “Sometimes I think I’m her only friend, and she used to be mine, until, like. You.”
“You two do seem really close,” Mark says, squeezing Donghyuck’s waist at the sweet confession he’d dropped in there.
“Yeah. It has its perks sometimes, but it’s also just fucking tiring. I’ve known this was coming for years, I don’t know why they put it off so long,” he sighs, shaking his head. “Well, actually I do. Both of them have told me that they were only staying together for the kids. It’s like, that’s not the sacrifice you think it is, guys. It just makes me feel guilty.”
“That’s terrible,” Mark says, and he feels completely out of his league. He’s blessed to have parents that only fight over snoring too-loud, or deciding who will put the dishes away. “Parents should never say that to their kids.”
“They shouldn’t,” he says, lips pursed. “You can’t tell your kid everything. You can’t tell them that their dad is a cheater and an ugly drinker and a giant fucking dick and then expect them not to start hating him, too.”
Mark doesn’t know what to say, so he tries to keep rubbing Donghyuck’s back, which he seems to really like.
“It’s not like I wanted them to stay together. They’re barely even a couple anyways, I’m almost relieved it’s over. My mom will be happier this way, eventually.” His voice is muffled into Mark’s shirt as he rests his forehead on his chest.
“Sure. It doesn’t make it less sad, though,” Mark says softly. “You’re allowed to grieve it.”
“There’s nothing to grieve,” Donghyuck insists, but his arms curls around Mark’s middle, allowing Mark to cradle him in the most comforting way he knows how. Donghyuck relaxes into him, and Mark knows better than to say anything when he feels wetness seep through his dress shirt. He sniffs, “I don’t wanna go home.”
“Let’s just keep sitting here, then,” Mark suggests. It’s a warm summer night, first semester is almost over, and he feels oddly peaceful cuddling with a teary Donghyuck while his head continuously knocks into a rose bush. “We can take as long as you want.”
“What about your house?” Donghyuck says. He blinks up at him with wet eyes. Mark’s heart stops, smudging his tear tracks with his thumb.
“I — I mean, my dad’s home, he texted me that he was already back,” he says. “But, maybe, if I explain, he’ll be cool with it?”
Donghyuck shakes his head. “No, that’s okay. My mom knows I’m with you, so she’ll start calling me if I don’t come back soon, anyways.”
The front door of the school flies open, two girls walking out.
“Let me walk you home, then,” Mark says. “Have you eaten solid foods since lunch?”
Donghyuck shakes his head again.
“I’ll buy you something to eat,” he offers, standing up and picking up both their bags.
“I really shouldn’t eat so late,” Donghyuck says, but his argument is weak, stomach already growling in interest. Mark holds out an expectant hand, and Donghyuck accepts it with a sigh.
“We also shouldn’t stay up so late, or sleep so little, but our bodies find a way to adjust.” Mark says, leading him by the hand. He sips his tea, biting down on the strawberry jellies, sugary sweet. He glances at his boyfriend. “Donghyuck. I’m always here, if you wanna cry. I know I’m awkward, and maybe you don’t like that stuff, but if you need to. I’m here.”
Donghyuck’s smile is wobbly when he nods in understanding. In their silence, he stops walking, grabbing Mark by the tie to smack a kiss to his lips.
_________________________________________
As another school year stumbles to an end, Mark finds it increasingly more difficult every night to say goodbye to Donghyuck. Though it’s still a while away, they’d begun speaking about the things they weren’t brave enough to voice sooner.
Graduating, together. College, together. Seoul, together. No more falling asleep whilst speaking on the phone, but rather next to each other sharing the same pillow, even when they had lots of pillows on the same bed to use separately. Mark loved that idea.
He felt close to Donghyuck in a way he’d never felt close to any of his friends back home, closer than regular friendship and surpassing normal puppy love that he’d see so often in his peers.
He looks at Donghyuck as they walk home in the dark, street lamps the only thing granting them light, and smiles fondly at the pretty picture. Donghyuck was beautiful even after an impossibly long day, hair a bit flatter, under eye circles peeking through light makeup. Those were trivial things that didn’t matter when it came to Donghyuck, still pretty anyways, skin still honeyed and his lips pink, heart shaped like God intended for him to be that sweet.
They’re so fucking tired — ridiculously, impossible to explain tired.
Sleep is rare for them as high school students, and though they should fall asleep once their head hits the pillow, it still doesn’t come easy. Mark finds himself laying awake most nights, talking himself down from panicking over the unknown, and though Donghyuck keeps his exterior cool and unnerved, the circles under his eyes are just as dark as Marks, so all they can do is be there for each other to lean on.
It’s Friday now, Mark’s dad isn’t home, and somehow they’ve ended up at his doorstep instead of Donghyuck’s. It had sort of been in the air since they left school, just past 1 am, when Mark’s dad had texted him saying he missed his train and would be back in the early hours of the morning.
Donghyuck had hummed and hawed after Mark read the message, swinging their hands between them and sighing about how he didn’t want to go home.
“You never want to go home.” Mark grins.
“But this time I mean it,” Donghyuck says through a pout. “We’re visiting my aunt this weekend, all of us. I won’t be able to see you until Monday.”
So they turn left instead of going straight at their normal intersection, heading to Mark’s house where Donghyuck happily follows him. He sings Into The New World the whole way there, and Mark hums along. He ushers Donghyuck through the front door when they arrive, taking his bag and his jacket politely, and dropping his house keys into a small ceramic bowl by the door.
“I can’t fall asleep here or my mom will kill me,” Donghyuck says, quietly despite the house being empty. He toes his shoes off and arranges them neatly next to Mark’s.
“We’ll set an alarm,” Mark says, taking his hand again. “Jus’ wanna hold you for a bit.”
“Ah,” Donghyuck blushes. “Smooth talking me already.”
They walk upstairs to Mark’s room, an often avoided location within his home, if only to make things easier for themselves. Mark leaves the overhead light off, just clicks on his bedside lamp, not sure if his tired eyes could handle anything more.
“Do you mind if I get changed?” Mark asks.
Donghyuck huffs. “I’m not that much of a prude, Mark.”
Mark laughs but says nothing in return, turns to face his dresser as he changes out of his school clothes, into an oversized graphic t-shirt and a pair of sweats. By the time he’s turned around, Donghyuck’s removed the top half of his uniform, so he’s just in his school slacks and an undershirt.
Donghyuck sits on the edge of his bed, arms bracing his weight behind him as he stares up at Mark with wide, attentive eyes. Mark grins when he gets caught looking, but the other boy just licks his lips.
Mark approaches him, leaning down to kiss him gently. He cards his fingers through Donghyuck’s hair, lets him lead their kiss however he finds best suited.
He’s really not sure where they’re headed tonight, swears on everything he hadn’t read that text out loud with the implication that this should happen. He’s not going to pressure Donghyuck into anything, was dead serious when he said he just wanted to lay with him.
They’ve been in a situation like this only a few times, and all of those situations had been downstairs on his living room couch, where things could only get so heated before the family portraits on the mantel started boring holes into his back.
Here, though, they’re in this cocoon of sleepy warmth, something heavy in the air when Mark kneels on his bed.
Just as fast as he’s pressed against Donghyuck, the other boy is out of his reach, scooting backwards until he’s resting against Mark’s pillows.
Mark watches as he pauses, sticks his hand behind his back and pulls out a teddy bear that’s seen better days.
“Huh,” Donghyuck says, then holds onto it cutely, looking at Mark with innocent eyes. “Who’s this, hiding in your bed?”
Mark flushes. “Just —,” he stutters, plucking the stuffed animal out of his hands. He tosses it off the bed. “Something my mom packed when I left. I don’t actually sleep with it.”
“Oh? It’s not embarrassing to me, though. I sleep with a plushie,” Donghyuck tells him. “I like to hold onto something while I sleep.”
It’s such a cute image, Mark can’t help but smile. “Really?”
“Mhm,” Donghyuck says, holding onto his wrist and pulling him closer. Mark is putty in his hands, turning on his side when Donghyuck does the same, until they’re laying with noses almost touching. “Like this,” he whispers, slinging a leg over Mark’s hips, hooking his arms behind Mark’s back.
Mark relaxes into Donghyuck’s embrace.
“I think I’m jealous of your plushie,” Mark says, and Donghyuck shivers as he breathes softly against his ear. “I’d sleep like a baby being held like this.”
“When we live together, I’ll hold you like this,” he promises. “Every night.”
Mark groans. He wants that blurry, unreachable fantasy to be their reality now. Donghyuck lets out a sympathetic noise of understanding, giving him soft butterfly kisses before pressing their lips together. Mark’s fingertips find their way under Donghyuck’s t-shirt, skipping up his spine before making their way back down soothingly, over and over again.
Donghyuck’s equally curious fingers search up and around Mark’s chest, tongue exploring Mark’s mouth like he wants to know every part of him. This much is normal for them, but it doesn’t make Mark react any less eagerly.
“Shit,” Mark says, dick twitching already, resisting the urge to rut against his boyfriend’s thigh.
Donghyuck’s leg is still slung over Mark’s hip, flexing with the effort of repeatedly trying to reel him in closer, and it’s making Mark’s head spin.
Donghyuck is a skillful kisser, and a huge tease, always giving Mark just enough before leaving him hanging with a humored look in his eyes. But it’s not like Mark can complain. They had their rules, and Mark respected them.
Actually, the rules were unwritten, and also totally made up. But there was still a vague line they felt they couldn’t cross.
What it all came down to was that their parents trusted them. A lot. So much so that it gave them a certain amount of responsibility not to go too far, though they were both aware any other couple their age would’ve done so without hesitation.
Honestly, Mark would dare to say their parents were a bit naive in their trust, but regardless, Donghyuck’s personal morals held stronger than any parental guilt could. And Donghyuck wanted everything about their relationship to be special. After they’ve graduated, no longer in their parents homes, not rushed.
Mark’s not totally sure how they’ve both made it this far. Last month, Donghyuck’s hand brushed Mark’s dick while they were kissing, and he had to sit alone in the bathroom for 20 minutes to calm down. Donghyuck was still blushing when he came out.
But they have their rules, and Mark is okay with that.
Which is why he lets out such an undignified gasp when Donghyuck presses his hips forward, his hardness pressing against Mark’s own. Mark swears his vision whites out completely, mouth stuck open in an ‘o’ when Donghyuck whimpers and does it again.
“Mark,” he whispers, pressing his lips desperately against Mark’s jaw when he stops kissing him back. Mark’s eyes are screwed shut, face shoved into Donghyuck’s neck. “Please.”
Holy shit, Mark thinks. He almost just came from Donghyuck brushing against his dick, twice.
Mark inhales a deep, steadying breath, and leans back to look into Donghyuck’s eyes. The other boy is shy, suddenly, can barely meet his imploring gaze. Mark holds his chin and kisses him again, and immediately Donghyuck reacts, lips parting in response. He’s eager to kiss Mark back, tongues brushing heatedly, but Mark pulls back again to stare at a kiss drunk Donghyuck.
“What do you wanna do?” He asks him.
Donghyuck licks his lips, unsure what to say. Finally, he rolls onto his back, tugging on Mark’s shirt so he’s hovering over top of him.
“I just want to be close,” Donghyuck says. “Don’t you want that?”
Their legs are slotted together where they lay, Donghyuck’s thigh between his own, so tempting to rub against. Mark thinks about his answer carefully.
“Yes, of course. Don’t you wanna be more, um, comfortable?” Mark stutters, fingers curling into the belt loops of Donghyuck’s trousers.
“Take my pants off, then,” Donghyuck says easily, raising his hips.
Mark’s eyes go comically wide. “Are you — woah, are you sure?”
Donghyuck blinks, then breaks into a tentative smile. “Yes.”
Mark nods, fingers shaking slightly as he unzips Donghyuck’s pants, tugging them down his hips. He’s left in only a pair of boxers, his bare, tan legs returning to their place on Mark’s bed, looking unfairly captivating on top of Mark’s pilling plaid comforter.
It escalates embarrassingly quickly from there. He falls back into place over Donghyuck, their kisses messy and wet while trying to multitask.
Multitasking as in rutting against each other’s thighs as they chase an orgasm, the epitome of boys too overcome with sensation to care about finesse.
Whenever Mark imagined moments like this with Donghyuck, dozing off in hagwon, or the back of his math class, or laying in bed alone, he’d imagined more rules. He imagined Donghyuck telling him exactly what they were going to do, exactly where he could touch him, and exactly when to come.
But actually, dry humping each other’s legs until Donghyuck was keening high in his ear, toes curled and fingers clutching Mark’s band t-shirt so that it’s raked up basically to his armpits, it was turning out to be surprisingly ruleless and also incredibly hot.
“Donghyuck,” he moans, voice cracking when Donghyuck’s thighs clamp around his leg, hips stalling as he muffles a noise into Mark’s shoulder. “Holy shit.”
He’s so close, so fucking close, the feeling of Donghyuck coming against him with only a thin pair of boxers and Mark’s sweatpants separating them sending him so teetering over the edge.
Donghyuck throws his arm around Mark’s neck, pulling him up and closer until they’re kissing again, extra languid.
Mark, now shuffled higher on the bed, presses his dick against Donghyuck’s hip, relieving some of the pressure. He wishes he was only in his boxers, too, able to feel Donghyuck even closer, but Donghyuck just came and they’re so comfortable, he knows he can get off just like this if he keeps going.
“Mark,” Donghyuck says, voice low. “Tell me how it feels.”
And Mark is more than willing to do so, opening his mouth to mutter something about feeling so close to him in that moment, aiming for sweet, when Donghyuck unceremoniously shoves a hand into Mark’s pants.
“Oh my — Jesus,” Mark gasps. Donghyuck presses a kiss to Mark’s cheek when he bypasses his boxers and grabs his hard dick, wet and sticky with precome. “Fuck!”
It’s the first hand besides his own that’s ever done that, so fucking warm and soft and bizarrely sure of itself, though he knows Donghyuck’s never done this either.
“Tell me,” Donghyuck repeats, wetting his fingers before circling just the head of his dick.
“S’amazing, oh - ah,” he whines. He can’t help moving his hips when Donghyuck starts jerking him off in short, tight pumps. “Feels perfect, Hyuck.”
The feeling is so mind-numbingly good that he wants to stave off his orgasm just to make this last, just to keep fucking into the tight, hot circle of Donghyuck’s fist.
And of course he wants to, but what you want and what you get are two very different things, and he lasts no more than one minute max before he’s coming in Donghyuck’s hand, belatedly hoping he didn’t pull some hideous face when he finished.
When he sits back on his haunches, Donghyuck pulls his hand out of his pants. He’s pink cheeked and shiny with perspiration, but overall, he seems quite pleased with himself.
Mark, suddenly embarrassed, lunges to grab a tissue box from his side table.
“I’m sorry,” he says, wiping Donghyuck’s hand clean.
Donghyuck chuckles. “Why are you sorry?”
“I just — you wanted me to tell you how it felt and stuff, and it could’ve been really hot, but I came in like a minute.”
“It was still hot, Mark. I just touched you with my hand and you acted like I was pulling some crazy pornstar moves,” he says, fighting a smile. “Anyways, I came just from humping your leg.”
How could Mark forget that?
“That was sexy, though,” he presses a hot kiss against Donghyuck’s neck, then adds quietly, “Thank you.”
“Thank you?” Donghyuck repeats, voice light and airy. “Is that something people normally say after they get a hand job?”
“Why not?” Mark asks, propping his head in his hand as he lay back on his side, staring at Donghyuck’s flushed profile. “It was a really good hand job.”
Donghyuck snorts, looking at Mark fondly. “You’re welcome, then.”
“I love you,” Mark says, voice low. The words are still new to his vocabulary, a bit alien on his tongue, but it’s thrilling saying it every time, watching the way Donghyuck smiles in response.
“You’re cute,” Donghyuck says, watching as Mark curls into his pillow instinctively. “I love you, too.”
Mark can’t remember the last time he felt so good, almost floating when he lets his eyes shut. Donghyuck’s body is like a radiator, always running so warm, lulling him to sleep.
“You can’t fall asleep, Mark,” Donghyuck says, as he feels Mark sinking into him, becoming a heavier weight on the bed. “You still have to walk me home.”
Mark hums an affirmative. He pats his hand around the bed until he finds his phone, seeing 32 minutes left on their alarm. He waves it in the air. “As soon as this goes off,” he promises, eyes drifting shut.
“And I’m gonna need to borrow new underwear,” Donghyuck says, poking him in the shoulder, refusing to let him fall asleep.
“You can take anything.”
“Can I shower?” He asks. “If I shower at this time in my house, I’ll wake everyone up.”
“Babe, of course you can shower here,” Mark laughs, the pet name rolling off his tongue without much thought. “Steal the food from my fridge while you’re at it.”
“What food? Your kitchen is barren,” Donghyuck mutters, sliding off the bed. Mark watches him shuffle around the room, grabbing a clean pair of underwear from Mark’s top drawer before searching through his closet. He selects a soft pair of track pants and a hoodie from middle school with his basketball team’s logo.
Donghyuck pauses briefly at the foot of the bed, staring at Mark, who looks back with a sleepy grin on his face.
“Well?” Donghyuck asks. “Aren’t you going to come with me, babe? Your house is scary.”
Mark’s face goes slack.
“You want me to shower with you?” He asks.
Donghyuck looks incredulous. “No! Just, sit and talk to me while I’m in there. Please?”
Mark’s slack face breaks into a grin. Donghyuck’s been over dozens of times, is completely familiar the layout of his house, and Mark doesn’t know him to be scared of anything.
He doesn’t say any of that, though.
He gets up off the bed and walks his heavy limbs over to Donghyuck, who kisses him twice and nags him about needing a clean towel. Mark smiles wider, and tries not to think about the future so much, if only to embrace what was happening here, now.