Chapter Text
Chapter 1: The Geography of Avoidance
There was an unspoken rule in Lee Donghyuck's life, a very simple, very strict geographical boundary that he had successfully maintained for the past two and a half years of college: Never, under any circumstances, walk past the Engineering building.
It wasn't that Donghyuck had anything against engineers. He just had something against one specific, guitar-playing, perpetually-flustered engineering major named Mark Lee.
Donghyuck sighed, adjusting the strap of his tote bag as he trudged across the campus quad. The mid-afternoon sun was unforgiving, but not nearly as unforgiving as the headache throbbing behind his temples. Beside him, Na Jaemin was happily sipping on his third iced americano of the day, looking entirely too radiant for someone who had just suffered through a three-hour macroeconomics lecture.
"I don't understand why you're walking like you're heading to the gallows," Jaemin noted, not even bothering to look up from his phone. "It's just a general assembly. We sit there, we listen to the Student Council president drone on about inter-departmental unity, we get our free pizza, and we leave."
"You say 'inter-departmental unity' like it's a good thing, Nana," Donghyuck grumbled, kicking a rogue pebble across the concrete. "Do you know what 'inter-departmental' means? It means they are mixing the departments. It means the safe, meticulously crafted bubble of the Business building is about to be popped by people from the other side of campus."
Jaemin finally stopped typing and shot him a deadpan stare. "Hyuck. It has been four years since high school. You cannot keep treating the North Campus like it's radioactive just because your ex-best friend exists somewhere in its vicinity."
"He's not just my ex-best friend," Donghyuck muttered defensively, crossing his arms. "He's... a menace to my peace of mind. And I am perfectly happy with my peace of mind."
It was a lie, of course. Donghyuck's mind hadn't known true peace since he was sixteen.
He could still remember the exact day everything shifted. It was raining. They had been sitting in Mark's bedroom, surrounded by empty comic book sleeves and the smell of petrichor. Donghyuck had looked at Mark—really looked at him—and realized that the comfortable, warm feeling in his chest was no longer just the affection you hold for a childhood friend. It was heavy. It was terrifying. And when a stupid misunderstanding a week later caused Mark to pull away, Donghyuck had let him go, too paralyzed by his own secret feelings to fight for the friendship.
Ten years. If he counted from the time they were kids, holding hands on the swingset, to the confusing rush of puberty, to the agonizing radio silence of the present—it had been a decade of loving Mark Lee in one way or another.
"Earth to Donghyuck," Jaemin snapped his fingers in front of Donghyuck's face as they approached the main auditorium. "Fix your face. You look like someone just kicked your puppy. And remember: free pizza."
Donghyuck took a deep breath, pasting on his signature, carefully practiced smirk. He was Lee Donghyuck. He was a marketing major. He knew how to sell an image, and his current image was bothered by absolutely nothing.
They pushed open the heavy double doors of the auditorium. The noise hit them instantly—hundreds of students mingling, shouting over each other, trying to find seats. Jaemin immediately grabbed Donghyuck's wrist and began dragging him toward the middle section, aiming for two empty seats next to Renjun, who was already glaring at a textbook.
Donghyuck slid into the seat, dropping his bag onto the floor. "Tell me we can leave in twenty minutes," he complained, leaning his head on Renjun's shoulder.
"Get off me," Renjun said without venom, gently shoving Donghyuck's head away. "And no, we can't. They're assigning the cross-faculty project groups today. The ones that account for thirty percent of our final grade."
Donghyuck groaned, letting his head fall back against the chair. He closed his eyes, preparing to tune out the world, until a terribly familiar voice drifted from the aisle directly to his right.
"Uh, excuse me? I think these seats are for the Engineering reps?"
Donghyuck's breath hitched. His eyes snapped open.
Standing there, looking just as broad-shouldered, impossibly soft, and devastatingly handsome as he had in Donghyuck's heavily guarded memories, was Mark. He was wearing an oversized grey hoodie, his dark hair slightly messy, holding a clipboard against his chest. Beside him stood Jeno, offering Jaemin a small, apologetic wave.
Time seemed to freeze. For a split second, Mark's gaze swept over the row, landing squarely on Donghyuck.
Donghyuck felt his heart do a violent, humiliating backflip. He hated how well he still knew Mark's face. He knew the exact slope of his nose, the way his eyes widened slightly when he was caught off guard, the nervous habit he had of pressing his lips together.
Mark froze. The clipboard in his hand lowered a fraction of an inch. "Donghyuck," he said. His voice was deeper than Donghyuck remembered. It wasn't the squeaky, breaking voice of a sixteen-year-old boy. It was the quiet, grounding voice of a man.
Donghyuck's throat felt dry. Every instinct screamed at him to look away, to throw up his walls, to be the aloof, unbothered stranger they had mutually agreed to become. But his mouth moved before his brain could stop it.
"Mark," he replied, his tone miraculously steady.
The tension between them was thick enough to choke on. It was heavy with unsaid words, with apologies that were never spoken, and with a decade's worth of suppressed yearning.
Jaemin, sensing the impending emotional collapse of his best friend, cleared his throat loudly. "Well. Isn't this fun? Are you guys our assigned cross-faculty group, or are you just here to block the walkway?"
Mark blinked, as if snapping out of a trance. He looked down at his clipboard, his cheeks dusting with a faint pink. "Oh. Uh. Yeah. Group 7. It's... it's us. Me, Jeno, Jaemin, Renjun, and..." He swallowed hard, his eyes flickering back to Donghyuck. "...and you."
Donghyuck stared at him. A cross-faculty project. A project that would take an entire semester. Months of meetings, late-night planning, and forced proximity.
The universe wasn't just laughing at him; it was practically howling.
"Great," Donghyuck forced a painfully bright, hollow smile. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs, determined not to let Mark see how much he was shaking. "I look forward to working with you, Mark."
Mark's expression tightened. For a brief moment, something akin to hurt flashed in his dark eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a guarded neutrality.
"Yeah," Mark muttered, gripping the clipboard tighter as he moved to take the seat directly in front of Donghyuck. "Me too."
As Mark turned his back, Donghyuck let out a shaky exhale, shutting his eyes tight. Ten years, he thought miserably. Ten years of keeping his distance, ten years of pretending he didn't remember the taste of strawberry lip balm under the neighborhood slide, and it was all about to be undone by a stupid university project.
It was going to be a very, very long semester.