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The garage was a disaster—empty cans, tangled cords, and a poster half-falling off the wall like it had given up months ago. The air was thick with dust and leftover takeout, a faint hum of an amp filling the pauses between noise.
Mark sat behind his drum set, halfway through a solo no one had asked for. His hair clung to his forehead, sweat running down the side of his temple with eyes squeezed shut like he was headlining Coachella instead of rehearsing for a gig maybe twelve people would bother showing up to. His sticks moved fast, sharp, almost showy—like the drums were the only thing that still listened to him.
“Bro, are you good?” Jeno yelled over the noise, leaning on his bass.
Mark didn’t stop. If anything, he got louder, shoulders tense, jaw set in the kind of focus that was half performance, half avoidance.
“Mark, that’s not even the song!”
The words barely cut through the clatter before Mark slammed one last cymbal crash that sent a vibration up the walls. An empty can rolled off an amp and clinked across the concrete. He finally looked up, breathing hard, a crooked grin tugging at his mouth. “I’m improvising,” he said, twirling a drumstick between his fingers like it made him sound any less unhinged.
From the corner, Jisung snorted without looking up from his guitar. “You’re deflecting.”
Mark frowned. “From what?”
Jeno and Jisung exchanged that wordless, long-suffering look only friends who’ve had the same argument ten times can share.
Jeno pointed his pick at him. “From the fact that you’ve checked your phone five times since we started warm-ups.”
Mark froze for a beat, then scoffed too fast. “I’m waiting for confirmation on the gig list.”
“Are you still texting him?” Jisung asked, voice calm but laced with that familiar dry edge. He finally looked up, chin resting on the neck of his guitar, eyes narrowing like he already knew the answer.
Mark forced a laugh, the sound short and awkward. “Who?”
Jeno let out an exaggerated sigh, rolling his eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn’t get stuck. “You know who. The one who thinks he’s too good to come to our gigs.” He leaned back on the amp with his arms crossed, a smirk tugging at his mouth.
“He’s busy,” Mark said, a little too defensive. He adjusted his hi-hat pedal just to keep his hands busy, but that tiny dip in his voice gave him away.
“Yeah,” Jisung said, lips curling into a smirk. “Busy not caring.”
Jeno made a low noise of agreement, tapping his pick against his knee. “You sure all this isn’t just in your head? I’ve never even seen him talk to you once, and we’re supposed to believe you're texting him now?”
Mark threw one of his drumsticks at Jeno—not hard, but Jeno caught it before it could hit him.
“I’m not that pathetic,” Mark muttered.
Jisung tilted his head, eyes glinting with amusement. “He’s right, though. Do you even remember how you almost drowned trying to get his attention last summer?”
Mark winced. “I was fake drowning, okay,” he stammered, the memory alone making his skin crawl.
“He was the lifeguard,” Jisung reminded him, tone flat, like the logic of it made the story even worse. “And Jeno had to drag you out before you embarrassed all of us.”
Mark tried to laugh, but it came out weak, like it got stuck halfway up his throat. “It was kinda funny though, right?”
Silence.
“Yeah,” Jeno said finally, his grin spreading. “Pretty funny how your stupid fake tattoo washed off and left that black stain on your arm for three days.”
That did it—Jeno and Jisung broke into loud laughter, Jeno practically doubled over while Jisung’s voice cracked halfway through a wheeze.
Mark, however, grabbed his last drumstick and threw it right at Jeno, this time hitting him square on the shoulder.
“Ow! What was that for?!” Jeno yelped, still laughing through the pain.
Mark didn’t answer. He never did. He couldn’t bring himself to care because he was already too far gone for the guy named Donghyuck. And no amount of teasing could fix that.
From the moment he’d bumped into Donghyuck on his second year, he’d known he wanted him—unreasonably, inconveniently, maybe even stupidly so.
Mark was on a mission—or at least that’s what he told himself—as he trudged across campus with a stack of band flyers that reached his chin. Jeno had bailed last minute, leaving him to handle promotion duty alone, and now he was regretting every decision that led to this moment.
The flyers wobbled dangerously in his arms, blocking his view entirely. He tried to adjust his grip, muttering under his breath about Jeno’s “sudden stomach ache,” when his shoulder slammed into something solid.
Someone solid.
“Watch where you’re going, freak!” Donghyuck snapped, stumbling backward as the collision nearly threw him off balance.
Mark’s eyes went wide. “Shit—sorry!” He immediately dropped the flyers, papers scattering across the pavement like a mini snowstorm, and reached out to steady Donghyuck.
Donghyuck’s hand shot out instinctively, smacking him away. “Don’t touch me!” he barked, regaining his footing just as Mark’s didn’t.
Mark, still halfway crouched and trying to apologize, lost his balance completely and hit the ground with a dull thud. Flyers fluttered down around him, one sticking to his cheek as the wind picked up and carried the rest away.
Donghyuck brushed off his sleeve like Mark had infected him. “Are you blind or just stupid?” he said, tone sharp enough to cut.
Mark blinked up from the pavement, mouth opening before his brain caught up. “Uh… both?”
Donghyuck stared for a second, unimpressed, then scoffed under his breath. “God, you’re pathetic.” He stepped over one of the fallen flyers, leaving a dusty footprint on it as he walked away without looking back.
Mark didn’t move. He sat there, surrounded by flyers fluttering across the pavement, trying to catch his breath and maybe his dignity. His brain was still buffering, every sound fading out except the echo of Donghyuck’s voice. He wasn’t even processing the words anymore— just the way they sounded. Smooth, sharp, somehow unfairly nice to listen to.
Donghyuck wasn’t just popular, he was campus royalty. The kind of person everyone either wanted to be or wanted to impress, sometimes both. Professors loved him, students adored him, and his name somehow made it into every conversation that didn’t even involve him.
Mark heard Donghyuck even did car commercials. In Japan. Which was insane. Because up close, he looked exactly like the kind of person who would.
The sunlight caught on the edge of Donghyuck’s jaw, tracing the curve of it. His hair was messy but intentional, like he woke up cool on purpose. The oversized sweater hanging off one shoulder shouldn’t have worked, but somehow it did. And those lips—plump, pressed into a faint scowl—were the kind of thing Mark knew would haunt him for no good reason.
Suddenly, every ridiculous thing people said about Lee Donghyuck didn’t sound like exaggeration anymore. It sounded like understatement.
And maybe it was the concussion talking, but Mark thought he’d never seen anyone so beautiful in his life.
✦
The lights were too bright, the mic was half-dead, and Mark’s hands were already sore before the second song.
The crowd was small—mostly bored college kids killing time—but it didn’t matter. The beat was pulsing through his chest, matching the rhythm in his head that had sounded a lot like his name all week.
Donghyuck hadn’t texted back. Not after Mark practically begged him to show up to just one gig. It was pathetic, he knew that. Asking Donghyuck for anything felt like tossing words into a void and hoping they’d echo back. Still, he’d said he’d try—and Mark, being the certified idiot he was, believed him.
For days, he kept checking his phone between classes, convincing himself that the next vibration would be him. It never was. But somehow, that didn’t stop him from hoping anyway.
He hit the snare a little harder.
“Mark, if you break another stick, you’re paying for it this time,” Jeno hissed, tuning his bass for the fifth time.
“You can’t put a price on art,” Mark shot back, twirling a stick dramatically before promptly dropping it.
Jisung snorted from behind the amp. “You can when we’re broke.”
Mark ignored him, bending down to grab the fallen stick. He stole another glance toward the crowd—trying to play it cool, but every nerve in his body only buzzed with one question.
The door creaked open at the far end of the cafe.
A few people wandered in, laughing too loud, the sound bouncing off the concrete walls. Mark’s pulse kicked up. Every new face made his chest tighten, every second stretching thinner when none of them were who he wanted. He tried to focus on tuning his drums, but his eyes kept flicking back to the door like they had a mind of their own.
It wasn’t him. Of course it wasn’t.
By the third song, the venue felt like it was breathing with them.The air was thick with heat and beer, lights pulsing through the haze in gold and purple like the beat itself. Mark’s shirt clung to his back, his heartbeat syncing with the rhythm he’d played a thousand times—but tonight, it sounded different.
Jisung nudged him mid-beat, confusion flickering across his face before he jerked his chin toward the far corner of the crowd.
Mark immediately followed his gaze and nearly missed his next cue.
It was Donghyuck.
Hood up, sunglasses on, standing half-hidden near the bar like he was trying not to be seen. It would’ve worked if Mark didn’t have him memorized.
He felt his mouth twitch before he could stop it. That stupid, involuntary smile tugged at his lips, no matter how hard he tried to play it off.
Jeno caught sight next, his bass note wobbling. He leaned toward Jisung, eyes wide. “No way,” he mouthed.
Jisung grinned. “I know.”
Before either of them could say anything, Mark leaned into the mic between songs. His voice came out rough and half-teasing. “This next song,” he said, “is dedicated to someone who pretends he doesn’t care, but came anyway.”
A few cheers went up from the crowd. Jeno whipped his head toward him, like dude, seriously? Jisung just blinked, torn between disbelief and laughter.
Mark didn’t care. Because there he was—Donghyuck. Even with the shades on, Mark could tell he was rolling his eyes.
The grin broke free. “You know who you are,” Mark added, before counting them in.
By the end of the set, the room was buzzing—half from the feedback, half from the small ripple of energy Mark couldn’t stop riding.
Backstage, the air was cooler, the buzz still ringing in his ears. Jeno tossed him a water bottle. “Dude, what the hell was that?”
Mark cracked it open, pretending not to notice how his hands were still shaking. “What?”
“The speech!” Jisung said, nearly tripping over a cable. “You literally announced your crush to like thirty people!”
Mark grinned, not even trying to hide how amused he was. He ducked his head, shoulders shaking just a little as his phone buzzed before fumbling in his pocket.
Donghyuck: you’re embarrassing.
Mark laughed under his breath, cheeks warm, before typing back:
Mark: am i still coming home with you?
The reply came fast.
Donghyuck: shut up and hurry.
Mark giggled—actually giggled—and tried to muffle it against his sleeve, but the grin was already taking over his face. Jeno groaned like he’d just watched a disaster unfold. “Oh my god. He’s smiling again.”
The moment Donghyuck closed the door in his room, Mark quickly grabbed his arm, pulling him onto his lap before burying his face in the curve of his neck and collarbone. He breathed him in like he was afraid the moment would vanish.
This was the part no one knew—the secret they’d been keeping for months. Donghyuck had made him promise not to tell a soul, and Mark agreed before he even thought about what that meant. No one in the band, not even in Donghyuck’s polished circle of friends knew about it. He would’ve agreed to anything if it meant getting to push Donghyuck down against the mattress after, if it meant hearing that soft, wrecked sound he only made when he forgot to hate him.
In daylight, Donghyuck pretended he barely knew him, even called him a charity case once, like Mark was some lost cause he’d been entertaining for too long. And Mark, stupid as ever, went along with it. Because maybe that’s exactly what he was: a charity case Donghyuck knew how to exploit.
It was easy to pretend it didn’t matter when no one was watching. It was harder when Donghyuck’s cologne lingered on Mark’s hoodie long after he left.
“Baby, you actually came,” Mark whined, pressing his face further into Donghyuck’s neck like he couldn’t get close enough. "I almost wanted to give up.”
Donghyuck rolled his eyes but didn’t pull away. His breath hitched, and his head tilted just enough to let Mark stay close. Mark took the opportunity to kiss down his neck, slow and teasing, feeling Donghyuck’s grip tighten on his shirt, caught between pulling him in and pushing him away.
“Mark,” Donghyuck breathed, voice shaky. “Wait.”
Mark ignored him. His hands clamped onto Donghyuck’s waist, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise, then dragged up and down in rough, deliberate strokes that hit every spot he knew would wreck him.
“You’re lucky the lighting sucked tonight,” Donghyuck gritted out, fighting the hitch in his voice as Mark’s fingers kept dragging fire up his ribs. “Nobody else saw you screw up that solo.”
Mark’s mouth hovered at Donghyuck’s collarbone, teeth grazing the skin just hard enough to sting. “You noticed though,” he murmured, smug, fingers still working those slow, maddening lines along his ribs. “See? Knew you cared.”
Donghyuck shoved at his chest—half-hearted, fingers curling into Mark’s shirt instead of pushing. “You smell disgusting,” he snapped, voice tight. “Shower. Now. Or I swear I’ll lock the bathroom and jerk off without you.”
Mark laughed, low and rough, but didn’t let go. “You’d last two seconds before begging me to come in.” He nipped Donghyuck’s jaw, then finally stepped back, hands up in mock surrender. “Fine. I’ll be fast. And if you’re patient enough, maybe I’ll let you pick where I put my mouth first.”
He stole a quick peck, before realizing it was nowhere near enough. He crashed back in, kissing Donghyuck sloppy and desperate right from the start— like he’d been starving for months, not just a week apart.
The sunlight hit the kitchen counter at an annoying angle, the kind that made everything look too bright. Mark stood shirtless by the sink, hair a mess, a bowl of cereal in hand. He looked way too comfortable, which was funny, considering this wasn’t his house.
Donghyuck walked in, hoodie half-zipped, hair still flattened on one side from the pillow. He stopped in the doorway, stared for a second longer than he should’ve, then scoffed.
“You look like a frat boy who just discovered carbs.”
Mark looked up mid-bite, spoon hanging loosely from his mouth. “You didn’t seem to mind last night,” he said, voice lazy, like he’d been waiting for the line all morning.
Donghyuck rolled his eyes, opening the fridge just so he wouldn’t have to look at him. “Yeah, well,” he muttered, pulling out a juice box, “pity makes people do weird things.”
Mark grinned into his cereal. “Sure. Keep telling yourself that, baby.”
The fridge door slammed a little too hard after that.
Mark didn’t look up when the fridge door slammed. He just kept eating, spoon clinking against the bowl like nothing happened. But his grin lingered—soft, crooked, the kind that said he knew exactly what he was doing.
“Stop smiling like that,” Donghyuck muttered, crossing his arms.
“Like what?” Mark asked, eyes flicking up, full of that lazy mischief that made Donghyuck want to throw something—or maybe kiss him again.
“Like you won or something.”
Mark leaned back against the counter, completely at ease. “Didn’t I?”
Donghyuck scoffed, but his voice faltered halfway through. He turned, pretending to busy himself with the juice box straw, but Mark caught the slight red creeping up his neck.
“Drink your pity juice, Hyuckie,” Mark said, smirking. “You’ll need the energy later.”
Donghyuck froze for a split second before tossing the straw wrapper at him. “You’re disgusting.”
“Yeah,” Mark said, catching it easily. “And you like it.”
✦
“Are you going to explain what the hell that was yesterday?” Jeno demanded the moment Mark dropped into the seat beside him.
“Explain what?” Mark said, shrugging like it was nothing. “I told you, but you guys wouldn’t believe me.”
He’d be lying if he said it didn’t feel a little like winning when he saw Jeno’s face this morning.
“So… are you guys actually a thing?” Jisung asked, disbelief written all over him.
Mark scoffed, shaking his head. “No, I just invited him to our gig,” he said, careful to keep his tone casual. It wasn’t a lie, just not the whole truth. No way was he about to risk his friends finding out how deep things actually ran with pretty boy Donghyuck.
They only knew about the surface-level stuff—the obvious crush, the teasing, the way Mark’s eyes always found him in a room. What they didn’t know was that Donghyuck’s room had practically become his second home, the kind of place where secrets stuck to the walls and names sounded softer in the dark.
He kept it a tight secret, mostly because Donghyuck would kill him if word ever got out. But partly because he knew his friends would hate him if they found out—if they knew how easily he let himself be used by someone like Donghyuck, in ways that went far beyond what anyone would call normal.
“The idea of you and him isn’t seeming so impossible all of a sudden,” Jeno said, raising a brow like he was trying to picture it.
Before Mark could reply, something in the room changed. It was subtle at first—the hum of conversation dipping, trays clattering softer, a ripple of attention moving through the cafeteria like a wave.
The air shifted, almost expectant. All three of them turned toward the entrance.
Donghyuck and his friends drifted in, loud in that effortless way that made everyone else fade to background noise. Donghyuck was in the center, hoodie unzipped, sunglasses pushing his hair back instead of hiding his eyes. His hair caught the light, golden at the edges, and his smile looked rehearsed and dangerous all at once.
Mark’s eyes lit up instantly, stupid and instinctive, like he hadn’t seen him just hours ago. He didn’t even realize he was staring until Donghyuck’s steps slowed near their table.
“What are you looking at, loser?” Donghyuck snapped, eyes flicking over him before rolling away. He walked off without waiting for a response, laughter from his group trailing behind him.
Jeno snickered beside him, nudging Jisung. “I guess not,” he muttered, voice low, watching Mark’s obvious reaction.
“Oh, shut up,” Mark said, frowning, though he couldn’t have cared less. He was used to Donghyuck being like this around other people, and honestly, it kind of turned him on.
✦
Mark had been rifling through his drawer for what felt like hours, tossing socks, t-shirts, and whatever else he could grab onto the floor. Nothing seemed right for the Halloween party tonight and he had only himself to blame. He’d practically begged Donghyuck to let him wear a Spider-Man costume, even offered to carry all his shopping bags and wash his car just to get the okay, only for him to completely forget about it later.
“He’s going to kill me if I show up with nothing,” Mark muttered, pacing his room in circles until his head started to spin.
It’s not like they were matching costumes or anything, but Donghyuck’s low, filthy suggestion that the costume stayed on for whatever came later, made Mark’s pulse slam straight to his dick—he wasn’t stupid enough to pass on that offer.
He was, however, stupid enough to forget about finding the costume.
A ridiculous idea hit him, and before he could think better of it, Mark practically leapt down to his younger brother’s room. He swung the door open without knocking and was immediately met with Riku, eyes glued to his computer screen.
“Do you ever knock? I could be changing in here!” Riku snapped, eyebrows furrowed, bracing for whatever nonsense his brother wanted to drag him into this time.
Mark waved him off, paying no mind to the complaint. “Do you still have that Spider-Man hoodie Mom got you for Christmas?” he asked, eyes glinting with hope.
Riku stared at him for a moment, expecting a joke, before realizing how desperate Mark actually looked. “Oh… you’re being serious?”
“Yes. Do you have it or not?” Mark’s patience was thinning. He didn’t want to linger a second longer in his brother’s cluttered, geeky room—but he had no other choice.
“Yes,” Riku said, pausing before turning fully to face Mark. “I haven’t worn it since that one Christmas when it actually fit me.” His brow furrowed, eyes flicking to Mark as if trying to read what was going on in that frantic head of his.
“Okay, just give it to me.” Mark held out his hand impatiently, practically bouncing on his heels.
“Are you sure? Why do you want it?” Riku asked, tilting his head, suspicion creeping into his voice. He knew Mark well enough to expect ridiculousness—but something about the intensity in his brother’s gaze felt different this time.
“Why do you care, geek?” Mark snapped, taking a step closer, the impatience in his tone practically vibrating through the room. Riku’s eyes widened and he swallowed hard, instinctively taking another step back.
“Are you giving it to me or not?” Mark pressed, hand still outstretched, his whole body leaning forward slightly, like he was daring Riku to refuse.
Riku still stared at Mark, waiting for an explanation. Mark let out a quick sigh. “I’ll owe you one if you do.”
That was all Riku needed. The thought of Mark owing him something was reason enough to give in, and besides, he wasn’t really using the hoodie anyway.
“Here you go,” he said, holding it out.
Mark grabbed it eagerly, patting his brother on the head and ruffling his hair before muttering, “Thanks, lil bro.” A small, satisfied grin tugged at his lips as he slung the hoodie over his arm.
Mark was probably the worst-dressed at the party. He hadn’t realized everyone was taking the costume thing seriously—he didn’t think showing up in a Spider-Man hoodie would be a big deal. Apparently, he was wrong.
Everyone else in the room looked like they’d been planning their outfits for months: glittering masks, intricate makeup, elaborate props, and costumes so detailed they could’ve walked straight off a movie set, leaving him painfully aware of just how conspicuous he was.
And the stupid hoodie didn’t help. What had seemed like a perfect Spider-Man nod at home now felt like a cruel joke. It was tiny—so short it barely reached his hips, riding up every time he moved. Every lift of his arms or twist of his torso sent more skin popping into view, leaving him looking less like a superhero and more like a slutty neighborhood Spider-man.
Mark tried to tug it down, shifting his arms awkwardly, but the fabric was relentless. He crossed his arms over his chest, hoping no one would notice, then shoved his hands into his pockets as if that could somehow save him.
His eyes darted across the crowded room, searching desperately for Donghyuck, weaving between glittering masks, elaborate costumes, and groups of laughing partygoers. Before he could scan the entire space, a tap on his shoulder made him jump.
He spun around to find one of Donghyuck’s friends, Jaemin, grinning at him.
“Hey, Mark,” Jaemin said, his eyes flicking over Mark’s tiny Spider-Man hoodie. “Who are you supposed to be today?” he teased, a smirk plastered across his face.
Mark froze for a second, blinking, trying to process if Jaemin was actually talking to him. He had never really spoken to this guy before, and wasn’t even sure Jaemin knew his name—but there it was, plain as day. Jaemin had called him “Mark.”
“Uh…” Mark stuttered, unsure if he was even allowed to talk to any of Donghyuck’s friends. But if they didn’t know anything, he probably just had to act normal, right? His fingers fidgeted at the edge of his hoodie, tugging it down slightly as if the gesture could somehow make him look less ridiculous.
“Is that Calvin Klein part of your costume?” Jaemin asked again, clearly enjoying the way Mark couldn’t string a sentence together, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Yeah,” Mark finally muttered, letting out a small, nervous laugh that barely masked the panic rising in his chest. “I actually planned to wear it like this,” he added, nodding with as much confidence as he could muster, hoping it would hide the embarrassment he felt radiating from his flushed face.
Even while he was talking, Mark couldn’t stop glancing at the crowd, scanning through the blur of costumes and lights until he finally found the person he was looking for.
Donghyuck was in a bunny costume—tight, shiny, and entirely too good-looking for Mark’s sanity. The fabric clung to him in all the right places, and the tiny tail at the back somehow made it worse. The bunny ears sat perfectly on his head, playful but unfairly hot, and Mark couldn’t look away if he tried.
Their eyes met for a split second—just long enough for Mark’s heart to trip over itself. Donghyuck gave him a quick once-over, face unreadable, before looking away like nothing happened.
Jaemin was still saying something, but Mark couldn’t hear a word. His attention was already somewhere else. Across the room, Donghyuck stopped in front of a door, glancing over his shoulder just once. It was quick, almost casual, but Mark caught it. The look was deliberate—sharp, knowing—and that was all it took.
“Uh—yeah, I’ll catch you later,” Mark muttered, cutting Jaemin off mid-sentence. He didn’t wait for a response before slipping into the crowd, weaving between people and pretending like he wasn’t doing something stupid.
He made sure no one was watching as he reached the end of the hallway, his heart hammering. The door Donghyuck had disappeared behind was half-closed, the muffled pulse of music leaking through the crack. Mark hesitated only for a second, just long enough to make sure no one saw, before pushing it open and stepping inside.
Donghyuck was standing in front of a mirror when Mark slipped inside, adjusting the bunny ears on his head like he was rehearsing a show. His reflection caught Mark’s, and a smirk ghosted across his face.
“Be honest,” Donghyuck said, smoothing down the sides of his costume with an exaggerated twist at the hips. “Does this make me look ridiculous?”
Mark opened his mouth, but nothing came out. The words got lost somewhere between his throat and the dizzy thud in his chest. He just stood there, staring, because of course Donghyuck knew exactly what he was doing.
Donghyuck’s eyes flicked up to meet his in the mirror. “You’re just gonna stand there?” he asked, turning slightly, voice teasing but low enough to make Mark’s pulse jump. He tilted his chin toward the couch behind him. “Sit.”
Mark swallowed hard and moved, every step feeling heavier than it should’ve. He sat, unsure if it was obedience or instinct, but the moment hung thick between them anyway—quiet, daring, and way too small a room for all that tension.
“What the hell are you wearing?” Donghyuck asked, stalking closer until Mark had no choice but to drink in every inch of his costume—tight, deliberate, obscene.
“Hyuck,” Mark rasped, breath catching as Donghyuck’s hand cupped his jaw, thumb pressing under his chin to force his gaze up. “I forgot to grab one, so I… improvised.”
Honest, and stupid. Donghyuck in full bratty-dom mode already lit him up; pair it with that outfit, and Mark’s dick throbbed so hard he nearly came untouched.
“Of course you’d let me down,” Donghyuck sighed, lips curling into a pout. “I’d rather see you in a plain tee than this slutty little getup.” His fingers hooked the waistband of Mark’s Calvins, tugging just enough to snap the elastic against skin.
“Guess you’re not getting that little treat I promised,” Donghyuck purred, threading slow fingers through Mark’s hair, nails scraping just right.
Mark’s hands clamped onto Donghyuck’s hips, jerking him flush against him with a low, wrecked plea. “Please, baby—don’t.” The word cracked open, raw and dripping with need, he knew exactly how his begging lit Donghyuck up.
“You can’t walk out like this,” Donghyuck said, peeling Mark’s hands off his hips. “Everyone will see it.” He flattened his palms on Mark’s chest and pushed slowly until Mark’s back hit the couch. In one fluid move, Donghyuck straddled him, thighs clamping tight around Mark’s waist.
“See what, Hyuck?” Mark’s voice came out ragged, barely a whisper.
Donghyuck didn’t answer with words. He started at Mark’s cheek, leaving glossy cherry kisses that glistened under the dim light—one, two, three—before dragging his mouth along his jaw and up to his temple, stopping just shy of his lips, before leaving a trail of shine and heat. Every kiss was deliberate, lingering, a taunt. When he reached Mark’s neck, he lingered longer, sucking faint marks just above the collar.
Mark’s hands slid up Donghyuck’s sides greedily, but Donghyuck was quick to catch his wrists and pinned them to the cushion. “Don’t,” he breathed against the shell of Mark’s ear, hot and cruel. “You don’t get to touch. Not after parading around dressed like a desperate little slut for the whole party to drool over.”
Mark groaned, low and wrecked, eyes squeezing shut as the words sank straight to his dick.
Donghyuck suddenly climbed off him, leaving Mark blinking up at the ceiling, confused and already missing the warmth. He watched as Donghyuck started rummaging around the room like he owned the place—opening drawers, peeking under piles of clothes, humming to himself.
“Hyuck, what are you even—”
Before he could finish, Donghyuck spun around with a crumpled white blanket in hand, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips. Without a hint of warning, he walked back and tossed it right over Mark’s head, the fabric falling over his face as Donghyuck tried not to laugh.
“Baby, what are you doing?” Mark asked from under the sheet, voice muffled. He didn’t move though—because, honestly, when did he ever say no to Donghyuck doing anything at all?
“This is your new costume.”
“Hyuck…” Mark’s muffled voice came from under the sheet as he sat up straighter. “I can’t even see through this thing.” Still, his hands instinctively found Donghyuck’s waist again, tugging him closer.
Donghyuck looked down at him, clearly amused.
“What am I even supposed to be?” Mark grumbled.
“A ghost, duh,” Donghyuck said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Mark let out a disbelieving laugh, the sheet slipping a little over his face. “I’d like a costume where I can see please…”
Donghyuck hummed, adjusting the fabric so it draped properly. He tilted his head, pretending to think. “You wanna see, huh?”
Mark nodded under the sheet, his voice muffled. “Kind of the whole point, yeah.”
“Fine,” Donghyuck sighed, already scanning the room. He spotted a pair of scissors on the desk. “Perfect.”
“Wait—Hyuck, what are you doing with—”
Snip.
Mark flinched as the sound came way too close to his face. “Donghyuck!”
“Relax.” Another snip. “You trust me, right?”
“Not with scissors!” Mark shot back, voice half-panicked, half-laughing.
Donghyuck just grinned, holding the fabric taut as he cut a small, uneven hole right in front of Mark’s left eye. Then another. He stepped back to admire his work.
“There. You’re staying like this,” he declared, pleased.
Mark’s hand twitched against the blanket. “Please don’t poke my eye next time.”
Donghyuck leaned in close enough for his voice to drop into something quieter, teasing, almost tender. “Then don’t move,” he murmured. “You’re gonna be good for me, okay?”
Mark’s breath hitched under the sheet before he managed a soft, “Mhm.”
It was insane how Donghyuck could wear something that showed half his skin, yet Mark was somehow the one getting in trouble for showing just a sliver of his. Not that he minded. He liked Donghyuck when he was unhinged—it let him pretend it meant something, even if he knew deep down it didn’t. If anything, Mark was exactly where he wanted to be.
✦
Mark finally managed to sneak Donghyuck into his house after what felt like the longest three hours of his life. He was pissed—chest tight, jaw clenched—as he dragged Donghyuck straight into his room. The door clicked shut behind them, before Mark spun around to face him.
Donghyuck stood by the door, looking way too innocent for someone who’d spent hours driving him crazy.
“What are you trying to do here?” Mark asked, voice low and carefully controlled.
Donghyuck clasped his hands in front of him, hips swaying like he was really thinking about his answer. His mouth opened—like he was about to say something clever—showing those two front teeth that always made Mark forget why he was mad in the first place, before snapping shut again.
The sight left Mark a little dizzy, caught between frustration and want.
“Why were you all over Sungchan at the party?” Mark’s voice came out quieter than he meant, frayed around the edges. “You knew I was right there, and you still—” he stopped, swallowing hard. “Was that supposed to be funny to you?”
Donghyuck had spent almost half the night after they left the room draped over Sungchan’s arm, laughing and smiling like he didn’t have a care in the world. They even drank beer with their hands interlocked while the crowd cheered, and it took every bit of self-control Mark had not to drag him out right then and there.
Mark only had one rule: don’t make him jealous. That included flirting, laughing a little too close, and definitely sleeping with anyone else. He thought it was a simple rule to follow, considering how many rules he’d already swallowed just to be Donghyuck’s secret. But apparently, tonight proved him wrong.
It wasn’t like he was pretending to be Donghyuck’s boyfriend. At least that’s what he kept telling himself. They had agreed from the start that if either of them wanted someone else, the deal was off, clean and easy. So as long as they were still in it together, other people were supposed to be off-limits. Especially when Mark was watching.
Donghyuck pouted, stepping closer until he could loop his arms around Mark’s neck. His voice dropped into something soft and almost sweet. “I was just having fun, hyung.”
Mark felt the word hit him like a punch to the gut. Hyung. He hated how easily that one word could disarm him, how Donghyuck knew exactly when to use it. He couldn’t even look at him—because the second he did, he knew he’d cave. And Donghyuck knew that too.
“Why aren’t you looking at me?” Donghyuck asked, his fingers hooking behind Mark’s neck, tugging gently like he was daring him to give in.
Mark exhaled through his nose, eyes squeezing shut as he took a slow step back. He could feel Donghyuck’s warmth still clinging to his skin, mocking his attempt at restraint.
Donghyuck clicked his tongue, irritated that Mark still hadn’t cracked, then slid a hand down to cup the hard line straining Mark’s jeans. Mark hissed through his teeth, hips bucking helplessly into the pressure.
His eyes snapped open instantly, locking onto Donghyuck’s playful smirk. “Now you’re looking.”
“You can’t just—” Mark tried, but the words stumbled out halfway when Donghyuck’s hand started to move, slow and knowing. His breath hitched, a groan slipping through before he could stop it.
“Just because you’re pretty doesn’t mean you get to do whatever you want,” he forced out, voice strained, jaw tight.
Donghyuck’s lips curled into a smug smile. “So you agree,” he teased, his hand tightening just enough to make Mark’s head tip back. “You think I’m pretty?”
Just as Mark opened his mouth, Donghyuck’s hand stilled, fingers splayed flat over the aching bulge in Mark’s jeans.
Mark blinked up at him, eyes already heavy-lidded and glazed with lust. His hips twitched, chasing friction that wasn’t there anymore.
“Take off your jeans,” Donghyuck muttered, voice low.
Mark’s fingers were on the button in half a heartbeat, popping it free and yanking the zipper down. He shoved the denim and briefs to his knees in one frantic push.
Donghyuck’s gaze dropped, slow and deliberate, taking in the flushed length now straining free. He didn’t touch—just let the air hit Mark’s overheated skin, letting the silence stretch until Mark’s thighs trembled.
He finally sank to his knees, slow enough that Mark felt every second stretch. He didn’t grab, didn’t stroke, just leaned in until his breath ghosted over the slick head, making Mark’s thighs tremble harder.
Then Donghyuck’s tongue flicked out—one flat, wet stripe from base to tip, lingering at the slit to lap up the bead of pre-come. Mark’s groan cracked the quiet. Another lick, slower, curling under the crown, and Mark’s hands fisted at his sides, knuckles white, refraining himself from burying it in Donghyuck’s hair.
“Shit,” Donghyuck husked, eyes locked on Mark’s as his tongue dragged another lazy stripe up the underside. “Look at you, already shaking.”
Mark’s palms slammed flat against the door, bracing as he stared down at the sight of Donghyuck’s tongue sliding slow and wet along his dick. “Hyuck—”
Donghyuck’s lips barely touched the tip, his breath hot as he hummed. “Gonna beg already?”
Before Mark could form a single word, Donghyuck’s mouth closed around him, the sudden warmth making his breath catch in his throat. Pleasure surged through Mark in a wave, forcing his head to thump forward against the door. His fingers instinctively tangled in Donghyuck’s hair, holding on as Donghyuck took him deeper, tongue moving with deliberate, unhurried rhythm.
A soft whimper slipped from Mark, hips twitching forward on reflex. Donghyuck’s hand flattened against his stomach, firm and steady, pinning him back while his mouth continued its unrelenting work.
Donghyuck suddenly pulled off, lips popping free. “Hands off the hair,” He warned, voice low but playful. “You move again, and I swear I’ll stop.”
Mark’s fingers were still tangled in Donghyuck’s hair when the words hit. He yanked his hand back like he’d been burned, slapping it flat against the door again, nails digging into the wood.
Donghyuck’s tongue flicked once, teasing the slit, then dragged a slow, wet stripe up the underside. “Good boy,” he murmured, breath hot against slick skin. “Keep still and I’ll let you come in my mouth.”
His mouth worked faster now, wet and relentless, tongue pressing flat against the underside with every bob. Mark’s thighs trembled, his breath coming in short, wrecked gasps.
“Hyuck, I’m—”
Donghyuck just hummed, the vibration snapping the last thread. Mark’s hips jerked hard against the hand pinning him, a choked groan tearing free as he came, pulsing hot and thick down Donghyuck’s throat. Donghyuck swallowed every drop, eyes locked on Mark’s the whole time, until Mark sagged against the door, spent and shaking.
Mark’s head lolled against the door, chest heaving, the taste of his own pulse still loud in his ears. Donghyuck stood up slowly, licking his lips like he was savoring the last drop, then leaned in and kissed Mark lazy and deep, letting him taste himself on that slick tongue.
“Bed,” Donghyuck mumbled against his mouth, nudging him with a hip. “You’re not done. I still want you inside me tonight.”
Donghyuck grabbed Mark’s wrist tight, yanking him forward as they stumbled across the dim room, laughter bubbling up between breathless kisses. Mark kicked off one shoe mid-step, nearly tripping, while Donghyuck toed off his own and let them thud to the floor.
The bunny costume stayed on, the shiny black corset stretched over Donghyuck’s chest and waist, the little white tail twitching with every step. The floppy ears bobbed above his messy hair, somehow still perched perfectly even after the chaos. Mark’s pulse hammered at the sight, the way the fabric hugged Donghyuck’s waist, the tiny bowtie loose at his throat, the zipper half-down from earlier teasing.
Donghyuck flopped onto the mattress with a low laugh, the tail popped up like a dare. He tugged Mark down, and Mark crashed on top of him, knees sinking into the bed on either side of those glossy thighs. Their hips lined up, heat sparking instantly through the thin costume, breath mingling as Donghyuck’s hands slid down Mark’s back, fingers hooking into belt loops to drag him closer.
He slipped his thumbs under the waistband of Donghyuck’s stupidly tiny shorts, pulling the fabric down slow enough to make himself dizzy. It hit resistance at Donghyuck’s hips before slipping down to his thighs, where it bunched and stayed, framing the rest of him like a half-open secret.
Mark’s fingers instantly wrapped around Donghyuck’s cock, stroking slow and firm while he kissed him deep, teeth catching that plump bottom lip with a sharp nip. Donghyuck whimpered into his mouth, hips jerking up into the grip, chasing for more.
He moved lower, kissing along Donghyuck's collarbone, dragging his mouth over the warm skin, lingering over every twitch and tremble. His free hand kept Donghyuck still, fingers firm around his hips.
“Want you inside,” Donghyuck whispered, lips brushing Mark’s ear.
Mark nodded, reaching blindly for the nightstand drawer. The lube clicked open and his slick fingers found Donghyuck’s entrance, pressing in careful, steady. Donghyuck’s head tipped back, a low, sweet sound spilling out as Mark worked him open with two, then three fingers, curling just right.
Donghyuck’s thighs shook, breath coming in soft pants. “I’m ready,” he gasped, voice wrecked. He shoved Mark’s fingers away before dragging his shorts down all the way, kicking them off impatiently. “Need you now.”
Mark wrapped a slick hand around himself, one fast stroke to spread the lube, then pressed the head against Donghyuck’s entrance. He pushed in agonizingly slow, a deep, relentless slide, eyes burning into Donghyuck’s as he stretched open around him. Donghyuck’s mouth fell open, a shaky moan spilling out when Mark finally bottomed out.
Mark rolled his hips once, slow and deep, then stopped. Donghyuck’s thighs clamped tighter at the sudden pause, a needy sound catching in his throat.
“Mark—”
“You didn’t think I forgot about the party, hm?” Mark murmured, dragging out again until just the tip stayed inside.
Donghyuck whined, trying to push down. “It was nothing.”
“Sure.” Mark slid in halfway and stopped. “Bet he’d love to see you like this, all needy and open for me.”
“Shut up,” Donghyuck gasped, nails digging into Mark’s shoulders. “Just move.”
“Say it,” Mark growled against his lips, voice rough. “Say you only want me to fuck you.”
Donghyuck’s face flushed darker. “You’re an asshole—”
“And you’re clenching around nothing.” Mark pulled out completely, rubbing the head teasingly over Donghyuck’s rim. “Say it.”
A broken whine slipped out. “I only want you. Please.”
Satisfied with the answer, Mark rewarded him with one hard thrust, swallowing Donghyuck’s moan in a messy kiss. “Good. Now take it.”
Mark set a slow punishing rhythm, long, deep strokes that dragged over every sensitive spot inside Donghyuck, then pulled out almost all the way before slamming back in. Each thrust rocked the bed, headboard tapping the wall in steady thumps.
Donghyuck’s head tipped back, throat bared as his moans spilling free with every hit. “Fuck—there—”
Mark angled sharper, his hips snapping forward, grinding in deep on the next push. “Like that?” he rasped, voice rough. “If only everyone could hear you now.”
Donghyuck’s nails dragged down Mark’s back, sharp enough to sting. His legs climbed higher, heels digging into Mark’s waist, urging him deeper as every thrust punched a raw moan from his throat. “Faster,” he gasped, hips snapping up to meet each slam.
Mark obliged, faster now, skin slapping loud, sweat dripping between them. He hooked one of Donghyuck’s knees over his shoulder, opening him wider, driving in so deep Donghyuck’s breath stuttered on a broken cry.
“Mark, close—”
“Not yet.” Mark slowed again, rolling his hips in lazy circles, watching Donghyuck squirm and whine beneath him. “You come when I say.” Mark kept the pace brutal, hips snapping forward, each thrust earning a sharp gasp from Donghyuck’s throat.
Their mouths met in a clash of breath and urgency as Mark pulled Donghyuck into a rough, consuming kiss. Donghyuck could barely keep up, his body was arching into Mark's, chasing the overwhelming pleasure. A hand slid from his waist, pressing firm against his lower stomach, making him twitch with sensitivity. The fullness, the pressure was too much, and yet not enough, dragging him faster toward the edge.
“Mark, please…” Donghyuck’s voice cracked, fingers scrabbling at Mark’s back. His dick, trapped between them, leaked steadily onto his costume.
Mark dropped to his elbows before crashing their mouths together in a messy kiss again. “Now,” he growled against Donghyuck’s lips. “Come for me.”
One more deep grind and Donghyuck shattered, back arching off the bed, followed by a strangled cry ripping free as he spilled hot between them. The clench around Mark’s cock dragged him over too as he buried himself deep, groaning low as he pulsed inside, hips jerking through the aftershocks.
They stayed locked like that, trembling, until Mark’s arms gave out before pulling out. He rolled to the side, pulling Donghyuck with him so they stayed tangled. Sweat cooled on their skin making the room smelled like sex and them.
Mark pressed lazy kisses to Donghyuck’s temple, fingers carding through damp hair. “You okay?”
Donghyuck hummed, nuzzling into Mark’s neck. “Mhm. Got a towel?”
Mark stretched, grabbed the discarded T-shirt from the floor, and wiped them down gently, lingering on Donghyuck’s stomach. He tossed it aside, then tugged the blanket up over them before grabbing the half-empty water bottle from the nightstand. “Drink.”
Donghyuck took a lazy sip, then another when Mark tilted it for him. A drop escaped, and Mark caught it with his thumb, licking it off without thinking. Donghyuck’s eyes fluttered.
“Gross,” he teased, voice fond.
“You swallowed worse fifteen minutes ago,” Mark shot back with a grin.
Donghyuck curled closer, leg thrown over Mark’s hip. “Still jealous?” he mumbled, sleepy.
Mark huffed a laugh, tightening his arms. “Just sleep.”
“Mark!”
The knocking grew louder, dragging Mark out of the haze of sleep. He blinked blearily, trying to lift his arm—only to feel the weight of Donghyuck still tucked against him, face buried in his chest, breathing slow and even. Mark smiled despite himself, brushing a few strands of hair off Donghyuck’s forehead before pressing a lazy kiss there.
“Mark Lee!” The voice came again, sharper this time, followed by another round of pounding on the door. It finally clicked who it was, and his stomach dropped.
“If you don’t open this right now, I’ll barge in and we both know you don’t want that!” his mom called.
“Shit,” Mark muttered, sitting up so fast the mattress squeaked. He shook Donghyuck’s shoulder, whispering in a panic, “Baby, you gotta wake up.”
Donghyuck didn’t bother to. If anything, his arm just tightened around Mark’s waist, face pressing deeper into Mark’s chest like he was actively trying to fuse into him. Mark almost felt bad shaking him again, but they both knew better than to let his mom catch them like this.
“Baby, seriously,” Mark whispered, shaking him again.
Donghyuck only groaned, voice muffled against Mark’s skin. “Five more minutes.”
“Not unless you wanna meet my mom like this.”
Donghyuck’s eyes cracked open, still heavy with sleep. “Your what?”
Mark barely had time to answer before another round of pounding hit the door, followed by the unmistakable twist of the knob.
Donghyuck shot upright like he’d been electrocuted, hair sticking out in every direction. Then, in one swift, panicked motion, he launched himself out of bed, nearly tripping over the sheets. He looked around for half a second, completely lost, before diving straight into Mark’s closet, slamming the door shut behind him.
Mark barely swallowed his laugh as the closet door slammed shut just in time for his mom to barge in.
“Mark Lee,” his mom said, hands on her hips, scanning the room like she already knew he was up to something.
“Morning,” Mark croaked, his voice cracking in the middle.
His mom squinted, eyes flicking around the room. “Why do you sound like you just committed a crime?”
Mark coughed, scratching the back of his neck, absolutely not glancing toward the closet where a very real criminal was currently holding his breath.
Mark shook his head, hoping the nerves would shake off with it. “What’s up, Mom?” he said, voice aiming for casual but landing somewhere between guilty and squeaky.
“Explain yourself,” she said, stepping further into the room. “What is this?”
She held up the Playboy he’d bought last month at the corner store—glossy cover, bright pink title, the centerfold bunny in a satin corset and floppy ears staring back at him like she knew his sins.
“Uh… that’s not mine?” Mark tried, voice cracking on the lie. Even he didn’t believe himself.
His mom scoffed. “It was in your backpack.”
“No, it was in my room—” Mark froze mid-sentence. His brain caught up a second too late. “Wait, I mean—” He groaned quietly, rubbing his face.
“Does owning this make you a better person?” she asked, crossing her arms.
Mark shook his head, gripping the bed sheet like a lifeline. “No…”
“How do you feel about owning this kind of magazine?” his mom asked again, trying for calm but failing miserably as her tone was sharp enough to slice him in half.
Mark glanced around the room like the answer might be hiding somewhere. Then his face lit up, way too confident. “Ashamed,” he said quickly, nodding like a model student.
His mom exhaled, long and heavy, like she was counting to ten in her head. “Do you have anything to say… to women,” she pressed a hand dramatically to her chest, “for having owned this offensive magazine?”
Mark swallowed hard, still gripping his bed sheet like it might protect him from divine punishment. He looked at her, sincerity plastered all over his terrified face.
“I’m sorry, women.”
For a second, the room went dead quiet. Mark held his breath, hoping the words would magically erase the last five minutes. His mom stared at him, clearly rethinking every parenting choice that led to this moment.
Then a quiet thud came from inside the closet, breaking the heavy silence in the room.
His mom’s eyes flicked toward the sound. “What was that?”
Mark froze, heart lurching straight into his throat. “Uh—what was what?” he asked, voice a little too fast, a little too bright.
She frowned, tilting her head toward the closet. “That noise. It sounded like something fell.”
Mark swallowed hard, praying Donghyuck wasn’t about to sneeze or breathe too loud. “Oh, that. Yeah, um, probably my window,” he blurted out. “Wind, you know? Super windy day.”
His mom didn’t look convinced, especially considering it was November, but after a long pause, she sighed instead of digging deeper. “Next time, if you want to have this kind of thing,” she said, holding up the Playboy like it was radioactive, “make sure your little brother doesn’t see it.”
“Riku?” Mark blinked, confusion and disbelief mixing in his tone.
She shook her head, muttering something about bad influences before turning and leaving the room.
The second the door shut, Mark let out the breath he’d been holding. “Goddamn it, Riku,” he muttered under his breath, glaring at the closet where Donghyuck was probably trying not to burst out laughing.
Donghyuck climbed out of the closet, already laughing so hard he had to hold his stomach. Mark scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Haha, very funny.”
Donghyuck wiped the tears from the corners of his eyes, still grinning. “So this is why you wanted me to wear that costume so bad?”
Mark frowned. “No.”
Donghyuck tilted his head, playful suspicion all over his face. “You were looking at girls wearing it?”
Mark groaned. “Hyuck, don’t start.”
“You’re such a loser,” Donghyuck said, grinning as he flopped onto Mark’s bed again. He propped himself up on one elbow, giving Mark a once-over. “Buying Playboy? What is this, the nineties?”
He leaned closer, voice dropping just enough to make Mark’s ears burn. “What, the pictures do it better than I do?”
Mark shot him a look, caught somewhere between offended and flustered. “What—no! Obviously not.”
Donghyuck gasped dramatically. “So you don’t think I’m hotter?”
Mark blinked. “That’s not what I said—”
“Oh my god,” Donghyuck interrupted, shaking his head with mock pity. “You’re actually so embarrassing.”
Mark threw his hands up. “You’re impossible.”
Donghyuck leaned in, smile turning into something slow and dangerous. “And yet,” he whispered, “you can’t get enough.”
✦
Jeno and Jisung had been on his case for two weeks straight. Every time Mark showed up at school, Jeno was already there waiting to remind him, very loudly, that their band couldn’t join the winter talent show anymore, all because Mark’s mom thought he needed to “reflect on his choices” and “develop a sense of responsibility” first. Jisung didn’t even bother talking anymore, he just made disappointed dad noises whenever Mark walked by.
That’s what happens when your mom writes a weekly column for the local paper called Raising the Perfect Family. She talked about discipline, balance, “healthy masculinity”—and then there was Mark, her living contradiction.
It wasn’t the best look for their band to drop out after begging for the last slot, especially because the punishment didn’t even fit the crime. It’s not like his mom caught him running an underground fight club. Between the yelling, the side-eyes, and the fact that Donghyuck hadn’t texted him since that morning, Mark was starting to think the universe just hated him.
Just when Mark was about to start mentally composing his suicide note, his phone buzzed— divine intervention in the form of a notification, saving his dramatic ass for another day.
Donghyuck: come over
Mark rolled his eyes, putting on his best impression of someone deeply offended at being treated like a booty call. But did he grab his van keys anyway? Yes. Did he sprint to said van like his life depended on it? Also yes.
He knew Donghyuck’s house like the back of his hand by now, and honestly, there wasn’t much point in sneaking around anymore, because Donghyuck couldn’t care less if anyone in his house knew about them. For Mark, though, this was about as public as things could ever get. The only catch was that he still had to park his van three blocks away just to avoid being seen, which made the whole thing feel less like a hookup and more like a hitman operation.
“Hyuck?” he called, poking his head through the half-open door.
“Yeah, just a sec!” Donghyuck’s voice came muffled from the closet, followed by the faint rustle of hangers and fabric.
Mark stepped inside, the only light coming from the lamp on the nightstand— warm, low, and golden against the walls. He sat in the middle of the bed, crossing his legs as he waited like a good kid about to be rewarded. The faint creak of the fan filled the silence while he absently brushed his thumb along the blanket, pretending he wasn’t just a little too eager for whatever came next.
The closet door opened, and Donghyuck stepped out with a tired sigh, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve had enough of this day,” he muttered before collapsing onto the bed beside Mark.
“Why?” Mark asked, his fingers automatically finding their way into Donghyuck’s hair.
“Renjun’s been getting on my nerves,” Donghyuck grumbled, settling in by tossing a leg over Mark’s lap. “We almost had a fight after I told him to stop saying ‘fetch’ every time something happens.”
All the words after that turned into background noise. Mark swore he tried to pay attention—he really did—but it was hard to care when Donghyuck was lying there in a silky camisole, stretched out like an invitation. The thin fabric clung to him in all the wrong (or right) ways, and Mark’s gaze kept drifting to the slow rise and fall of his chest as he talked about something that definitely wasn’t as interesting.
“Mark, are you even listening?” Donghyuck sat up, tone sharp enough to cut through Mark’s fogged-up brain. Mark blinked fast, forcing his eyes up from where they’d been lingering.
“Yeah—yeah, totally,” he said quickly, nodding like an idiot. “You were, uh… playing fetch?”
Donghyuck gave him a look so deadpan it could kill. “No, idiot.” In one smooth motion, he shoved Mark backward until his back hit the mattress. “I asked if you were wearing eyeliner.”
Before Mark could even process that, Donghyuck was already climbing on top of him, thighs bracketing his hips, hair falling slightly over his face. Mark’s breath hitched. He tried, really tried, not to react but his body betrayed him instantly. No matter how many times this happened, it still hit him like the first time.
Just as Donghyuck leaned in, the gap between them down to a breath, his phone started ringing. He groaned, pulling away with an irritated sigh, but Mark caught his hands, eyes wide and pleading.
“Can’t you ignore it?” he murmured, sounding almost whiny.
Donghyuck scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You’re just gonna have to wait.”
He glanced at the screen and sighed, before swiping to answer. “Yeah, Chenle, what do you want?”
Mark sighed, giving up but refusing to move far. He sat up, careful not to disturb Donghyuck, and buried his face against his chest. The faint smell of Donghyuck’s perfume clung to the silk of his camisole, warm and sweet, and Mark figured if he couldn’t have his attention, he’d steal it away.
He hooked a finger under the thin strap of the camisole, trying to tug it off one shoulder. Donghyuck’s hand shot up, swatting him away with a half-hearted glare.
But that didn’t stop him. Mark just smirked, fingers toying with the thin strap again before easing it down Donghyuck’s shoulder. His hand followed the trail, palm warm against soft skin as he started to draw lazy circles—slow and teasing.
Donghyuck’s glare softened into something breathier, his hand settling on Mark’s shoulders instead of pushing. His thumb brushed over the small, hardened peak, and Donghyuck’s breath hitched just enough to make Mark’s grin widen, earning him a tiny, involuntary roll against his thighs.
“What about Jaemin?” Donghyuck asked into the phone, trying to keep his voice even while Mark’s fingers toyed with his left nipple relentlessly.
“That band geek? What’s his name—ah!” Donghyuck’s words broke off into a sharp gasp when Mark flicked his nipple, just enough to make him jolt. He shot Mark a glare that melted the second Mark soothed the sting with slow, warm strokes of his thumb.
“Mark? He has a crush on Mark?” Donghyuck said, his tone somewhere between disbelief and amusement. The words made Mark freeze mid-touch, fingers stilling against his skin. For a second, all he could do was stare up at Donghyuck, trying to figure out if he’d misheard.
Donghyuck didn’t even look his way, too focused on whatever Chenle was saying through the phone. Mark hesitated for a second, then decided he didn’t care enough to find out what the call was about even though it involved his name.
He kept going, hooking a finger around the other strap of Donghyuck’s camisole and tugging it down slowly. The fabric fell uselessly at his elbows, leaving Donghyuck’s chest bare and his breath hitching again.
“Why would he like that—” Donghyuck’s voice hitched, words faltering as Mark’s touch grew more deliberate, his focus entirely on him. “—that dork?”
Mark almost laughed at the hypocrisy, as if he wasn’t the same person currently making him breathe heavy, like calling him a dork somehow erased what Mark’s hands were doing to him.
He kept both hands moving now, rolling and pinching lightly, then flicking each peak just enough to pull a stifled gasp from Donghyuck’s throat. He stared up at Donghyuck’s flushed face while the phone trembled against his ear, every touch made him fight harder to sound normal.
“No, no, I’m fine, Chenle,” Donghyuck said quickly, voice a little too high and breathless.
“I’m just—” Donghyuck’s words broke off into a muffled whine. He slapped a hand over his mouth, eyes wide like he could physically catch the sound before it escaped. “I’m just busy with my dog,” he added, far too fast.
Mark grinned, because the only word that really stuck was Donghyuck calling him “my”. And being the delusional mess he was, he took that one word personally. Without pausing to second guess, Mark dipped his head and flicked his tongue across Donghyuck’s nipple, quick and wet, savoring the faint salt on his skin.
“I’ll talk to you later, Chenle,” Donghyuck breathed, ending the call before his voice could give anything else away.
The phone slid from his hand, landing somewhere on the mattress, completely forgotten. Mark’s mouth stayed latched to the same nipple, sucking slow and steady, tongue flicking in tiny, teasing circles. Donghyuck’s breath stuttered, his grip on Mark’s shoulders turning desperate, like he needed an anchor.
“Did you hear that?” Donghyuck said between uneven breaths. “That new kid, Jaemin—he’s got a crush on you.”
Mark didn’t respond, just pulled off with a wet pop, lips glistening before moving to the other side, unhurried. He took the neglected peak between his teeth, grazing lightly before soothing it with a wet swirl. Donghyuck’s hips moved on instinct, one hand slipping to the back of Mark’s head as his own tipped back with a shaky breath.
“Mark—” Donghyuck’s voice cracked, half-whine, half-warning.
Mark paused, glancing up through his lashes. Donghyuck’s fingers were tangled in his hair, tight enough to sting a little. “Are you jealous?” he asked.
Donghyuck let out a shaky, almost offended laugh, like the idea itself was ridiculous. “Why would you think that?”
Mark just hummed, thumb circling lazily over the now slick skin, the shine of his own doing catching the light. “You wouldn’t be?”
Donghyuck’s lips curved, eyes half-lidded as he caught his breath. “No,” he said, a teasing lilt in his voice. “That’s more your thing, isn’t it?”
He knew that, but hearing it didn’t make it any easier. The reminder that Donghyuck didn’t see him the same way always lingered in the back of his mind. He told himself it didn’t matter, as long as no one else was holding Donghyuck the way he did.
Mark’s jaw tightened, but his smile didn’t waver. “Yeah?” he murmured, voice lower now, dragging just enough to make Donghyuck shiver. His hands slid up Donghyuck’s sides until his thumbs pressed just beneath his ribs. “Maybe I just like knowing what’s mine.”
Donghyuck scoffed, breath catching halfway through. “You’re so full of yourself,” he said, but his words came out thinner than he meant, dissolving into a soft gasp when Mark leaned in, mouth grazing the curve of his throat. “I’m not yours.”
“Maybe,” Mark said against his skin, the corner of his lips lifting. “But your body’s saying otherwise.”
He didn’t give Donghyuck a chance to answer. Mark’s mouth clamped down on the bare nipple again, sucking hard, lips sealed tight around the stiff peak. His tongue pressed flat, dragging slow and wet in a thick, deliberate stripe before flicking the tip sharp and fast. The pull was relentless, cheeks hollowing as he drew the sensitive bud deeper, teeth scraping just enough. A wrecked moan ripped out of Donghyuck, raw and loud in the bedroom.
Donghyuck’s hips rolled forward, slow but desperate, grinding down until the thin cotton of his shorts caught on the rough denim of Mark’s jeans. The hard line beneath pressed up to meet him, and the friction pulled a shaky breath from both of them.
The waistband of his shorts slipped lower, bunched just under the curve of his ass, the hem of his camisole still tangled at his elbows, leaving his chest flushed and glistening with Mark’s spit.
“Fuck, listen to you,” Mark rasped, breath scalding against the slick skin. “Moaning like you’re already getting fucked just from your tits.”
Donghyuck’s fingers knotted tighter in Mark’s hair, yanking without thinking. He ground down again, hips circling in a slow, filthy grind, the head of his cock catching on Mark’s zipper with every roll.
“Keep going,” Mark whispered, voice rough and low, switching to the other nipple. He sucked it deep, cheeks hollowing again, tongue flicking in quick, teasing pulses that matched the rhythm of Donghyuck’s hips. Spit trailed from his lips, shining on Donghyuck’s chest in the dim light. “Ride my lap like you ride my dick. Show me how fucking bad you want to come just from this.”
Donghyuck’s hips stuttered, grinding down once, twice before he stopped.
A sharp, broken cry spilled out as he came, hot pulses soaking the front of his shorts, his whole body trembling against Mark’s. Mark didn’t stop—just kept sucking slow and steady, drawing out every shudder until Donghyuck went limp, breath ragged, forehead pressed to Mark’s shoulder.
Mark pulled off with a soft, wet pop, lips brushing the slick skin as he murmured, “Next time, make sure your words match how hard you just came, then maybe I’ll believe you.”
“Shut up,” he muttered, voice hoarse, but the words lacked bite. His forehead stayed pressed to Mark’s shoulder, hiding the flush crawling up his neck.
✦
Mark almost took out a trash can when he pulled into the school parking lot, tires screeching like even his van knew how late he was. What was supposed to be a quick fifteen-minute nap after class had somehow turned into a four-hour coma, and now the winter talent show was already halfway through.
Although he wasn't even competing anymore this year, he’d promised Donghyuck he’d come watch—even if it was the same performance Donghyuck did every winter, the one he’s been doing since forever. And honestly, Mark didn’t mind. Not when it meant getting to see Donghyuck dance under the spotlight in some ridiculous, too-tight Christmas outfit that only he could somehow make look good.
After nearly tripping over absolutely nothing, Mark burst through the doors to the hall, breathless. On stage, Donghyuck and his friends were already in position, the opening notes spilling from the speakers. Relief flooded through him as he realized he’d made it just in time, thank God.
Not that Donghyuck would’ve cared if he missed it, but Mark probably would’ve had to die if he ever did.
Donghyuck was scanning the crowd, brows pulled together as Renjun fussed with the sound system. Then their eyes met. And for a split second, Mark swore he saw relief flicker across Donghyuck’s face before it disappeared, replaced by the unreadable look he always wore. If Mark didn’t know better, he might’ve thought Donghyuck had actually been looking for him.
He weaved through the crowd, squeezing past knees and bags until he found an open seat near the right side of the stage. Settling in, he dug through his backpack for his camera. Donghyuck had unwillingly given him permission to record last week, and Mark wasn’t about to waste the chance. He hit record, grinning to himself at the sight of Donghyuck on stage in that ridiculously sexy outfit he was already fantasizing about tearing off later.
The performance started— same song, same dance, same routine Donghyuck had done every year. But something felt different this time. Mark noticed it almost immediately, how Donghyuck kept glancing his way. Not once, not twice, but enough for Mark to start wondering if it was intentional. Donghyuck wasn’t the type to risk being caught looking at him in public, which made every lingering glance feel like a quiet, dangerous secret.
Halfway through the second chorus, their eyes met again. Mark raised his camera, teasingly pointing at it in a silent I’m watching you gesture, but Donghyuck didn’t react. No smirk, no eyeroll. Just that same unreadable expression he’d had since the song started— focused, maybe a little tense. Mark frowned, curiosity replacing his smugness. What’s up with him today?
After the performance ended, Mark slipped backstage, his chest tight with worry. He told himself it was just to check in, just to make sure Donghyuck was fine—but really, he couldn’t shake the image of that blank look on stage. He already half-expected Donghyuck to just tell him off for hovering, but he couldn’t ignore the pull.
When he peeked into the dressing room, his breath caught. Donghyuck was sitting alone on a chair, knees drawn up, head buried between them. His shoulders trembled with uneven breaths, the faint sound of a muffled sob filling the quiet room.
“Hyuckie?” Mark called softly, stepping closer. “Hey, are you okay?”
He crouched beside him, his heart aching at the sight. Donghyuck’s head snapped up, eyes red and glassy, his lip trembling just slightly. “What are you doing in here?” he asked, voice cracking halfway through.
“Why are you crying? What happened?” Mark ignored the question entirely, his voice soft as his thumbs brushed away the tears streaking Donghyuck’s cheeks.
“What do you care?” Donghyuck mumbled, trying to push his hands away, though not with much force.
Mark sighed, the sound somewhere between frustration and worry. “Are you really asking me that right now?”
“I’m fine,” Donghyuck said after a pause, sitting up straighter, pretending like he hadn’t just been crying. “Just tired.” He forced a small smile, but his voice wavered at the edges.
Mark didn’t believe it, not for a second—but he could tell pushing would only make Donghyuck shut down more. So instead, he eased back, letting the tension slip from his voice as he tried a different approach. “I recorded your performance,” he said, smiling faintly. “You looked so sexy, baby.”
“Mark!” Donghyuck hissed, eyes wide as he swatted his arm. “Don’t fucking say that here.”
Mark laughed, the sound low and teasing. “Relax. No one’s here.”
“You should go before someone walks in,” Donghyuck said, giving his chest a light shove. “I don’t need people getting weird ideas.”
Mark only grinned, resting his hands on Donghyuck’s knees. “You’re always so tense, you know that?”
Donghyuck shot him a look before shoving him harder this time, enough to make Mark stumble a step back. “I swear to god, Mark—shut up.” But at least the edge in his voice wasn’t sadness anymore, and that was enough to make Mark smile.
“Also,” Donghyuck added, crossing his arms, “delete that video. I don’t want you keeping it.”
Mark pouted, tilting his head. “Why should I?”
“Because I said so. I don’t like it,” Donghyuck shot back, wiping at the last traces of tears.
Mark hummed, pretending to think, though the grin forming on his face gave him away. “Then maybe…” he started, his voice dropping low as his hands slid up Donghyuck’s bare thighs, fingertips tracing the edge of his shorts, “you should make me another video instead.”
Before Donghyuck could answer, the door creaked open, and Mark shot up so fast it was almost comedic— spine straight, hands awkwardly at his sides.
“Mark?” a voice called.
He turned just in time to see Jaemin walk in, followed closely by Renjun and Chenle.
“Uh, hi.” Mark’s voice cracked halfway through, and the silence that followed made it worse. He had no idea what to do with his hands, or his face, or his entire existence, especially when Donghyuck wasn’t looking at him to silently tell him what to do.
“What are you doing here?” Jaemin asked, voice soft but curious, and Mark could’ve sworn there was something like excitement behind his eyes.
Chenle leaned in, smirking. “Were you looking for Jaemin?”
Mark cleared his throat, heart hammering as every possible bad explanation flashed through his mind. “Yes?” he said finally, the word coming out more like a question than an answer. Maybe it would throw them off the trail, or maybe he had just dug himself into a deeper hole.
He risked a glance at Donghyuck, whose entire body had gone rigid. Still seated, staring straight ahead, refusing to meet his eyes. It took everything in Mark not to speak, not to ask if he’d just said the wrong thing.
“Aw, he likes you. And he was totally waiting for you,” Renjun said, crossing his arms with that knowing grin. He leaned against the wall, eyes flicking between Mark and Jaemin like he’d just uncovered the world’s juiciest gossip. “That is so fetch.”
Donghyuck sat up at that, the sudden movement sharp enough to make everyone flinch. “Renjun, stop trying to make fetch happen,” he said, tone clipped, eyes narrowing just enough to get his point across. “It’s not going to happen.”
Donghyuck didn’t wait for a response. He stood up so fast the chair scraped against the floor and started shoving his things into his bag—each movement sharp and rushed, like he needed something to distract himself. He swung his bag over his shoulder and muttered something about needing air before brushing past Mark on his way out.
Mark stayed there for a long moment, his heart sinking. Did he say something wrong? Was Hyuck worried they’d gotten caught? Or was this just another one of those things he wasn’t supposed to ask about?
✦
It had been four weeks. Four long, miserable weeks since the winter talent show, and Mark was losing his mind. He’d called, texted, even sent a desperate email like some lovesick idiot, but Donghyuck hadn’t answered once. Not a single word.
He still saw him sometimes across the courtyard or at lunch, surrounded by friends, always looking perfectly fine and unbothered. Donghyuck laughed, smiled, and lived his life like Mark hadn’t ever existed, while Mark stood there like a ghost stuck in someone else’s story. It was pathetic, really.
Every night he replayed it in his head, searching for the moment things went wrong. Maybe he’d said something stupid. Maybe Donghyuck’s friends found out. Maybe he was just a mistake. Whatever it was, the silence was killing him.
He told himself he shouldn’t expect anything, that it was never meant to be serious anyway. But none of that stopped the ache in his chest, or the way his thoughts circled back to Donghyuck again and again. It wasn’t fair. How Donghyuck could walk away so easily when Mark was so in love with him.
It was a heavy thing to carry alone, keeping it all to himself. But Mark held on to the promise he made to Donghyuck, the one where he swore he’d never tell anyone about them. It ate at him sometimes, the silence, the pretending—but he couldn’t bring himself to break it. Not when some small, stupid part of him still believed there might be a chance for him to come back.
Jeno and Jisung had convinced him to go to a New Year’s party that night, though Mark wasn’t sure he could handle seeing Donghyuck there, because of course he would be. Still, he didn’t want to give his friends a reason to worry, especially when they’d been kind enough not to ask why he’d been so out of it lately. So he agreed to go, telling himself he could at least try to have a good time again, even if it was just for a few hours.
The party was loud and crowded, lights flashing red and gold. Mark stuck close to Jeno at first, drink in hand, trying to pretend he wasn’t counting down the minutes until he could leave. It didn’t take long for him to spot Donghyuck in the crowd, his eyes had long learned where to look first, like they were wired to find him in every room he was in.
“Mark, where are you going?” Jisung called, but Mark barely heard him. His feet were already moving—straight toward Donghyuck. And Sungchan.
His stomach turned at the sight. Sungchan’s arm was casually draped over Donghyuck’s shoulders, close enough to make Mark’s jaw clench. He swallowed down the urge to drag Donghyuck away right then and there.
“Can I talk to you for a sec, Donghyuck?” Mark said once he reached them, voice tighter than he meant it to be.
Sungchan turned, gaze dragging over Mark with something that felt like quiet judgment. “Do you know him?” he asked, a hint of curiosity laced in his voice.
Donghyuck straightened immediately, his whole posture shifting. That same guarded mask slipped into place, the one he always wore whenever Mark was around other people. “What do you want, Mark? You can say it here.”
Mark let out a short laugh, one that didn’t sound amused. “You know better than that.”
For a moment, the mask slipped. Something uncertain flickered across Donghyuck’s features before he exhaled softly. “Okay then.”
That was all it took. Mark grabbed his wrist, rougher than he intended, then eased his hold when he felt Donghyuck tense. Without another word, he pulled him toward the porch, out into the cold air where the music faded behind them. Donghyuck followed him silently.
“Don’t you think I at least deserve some kind of explanation?” Mark started, his voice sharp, eyes fixed on Donghyuck.
“About what?” Donghyuck asked quietly, still refusing to meet his gaze.
Mark let out a hollow laugh. “About what?” he repeated, the words dripping with disbelief. “Let’s check my list, shall we?”
“Don’t make a scene. People will see us together,” Donghyuck warned, his tone low but urgent, flicking his eyes toward him.
Mark actually laughed at that, the sound bitter and shaky. He couldn’t tell if it was from the audacity or how pathetic he felt. “Is that all you care about? Your reputation?”
Donghyuck’s eyes snapped up, finally meeting his. “Are we really doing this right now?”
Mark’s jaw tightened. “Should I email you another appointment then?”
“Am I some kind of joke to you? Because I’m tired of feeling like one.”
“No, you’re not. Stop this.” Donghyuck’s eyes glistened, and it almost broke Mark, but he had held back for too long to give in so easily.
“Then why the hell are you doing this to me?” Mark’s voice shook as he stepped closer. “I let you push me around, chip away at my self-respect just to have half of you. And you don’t even have the courage to be honest with me?”
“Don’t make it sound like I forced you into anything,” Donghyuck snapped, crossing his arms tightly, voice sharp and tense.
“I agreed to put up with so much just to be your secret,” Mark shot back, taking a step back and running a hand through his hair, trying to steady himself, “but you keep treating me like some B grade consolation prize. I’m sick of it.”
Donghyuck’s gaze faltered for a second, almost regretful, and then he asked quietly, “Then why do you keep coming back?”
Mark paused, eyes searching for any hint of softness in the person before him. But even his delusions couldn’t find a glimpse of hope in Donghyuck’s gaze, and that in itself said more than words ever could.
“Maybe you really are what people say.”
Donghyuck’s face fell, and Mark could see tears threatening to spill at any second. He hadn’t meant what he said, but he didn’t rush to apologize either.
“Don’t say that about me!” Donghyuck snapped, shoving against Mark’s chest with enough force to make him stumble back a step, his hands trembling slightly as if the push was as much a release of frustration as it was anger.
“Oh, I’m sorry, but you’re out here letting other guys hold you close like I haven’t been losing my mind, wondering if I did something wrong.” Mark exhaled sharply, eyes snapping shut fighting the urge to break right there. “But I should be careful how I’m talking to you?”
Donghyuck shook his head, but no words came out.
“Are you sleeping with him?” Mark finally asked, the words bitter and heavy on his tongue.
His gaze desperately searched Donghyuck’s face for any sign of reassurance, any flicker of hope. But all that met him were tears slipping down, and a silence that pressed against Mark’s chest, breaking him piece by piece.
“You can’t even look at me,” Mark said, his voice barely above a whisper. It trembled in the still air between them, fragile enough that Donghyuck almost missed it.
“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Donghyuck managed after a long pause, the words catching in his throat.
“That you’re ending this,” Mark said, almost pleading now. “I want you to say it.” His words trembled, barely holding himself together as he was also seconds away from tears himself.
Donghyuck swiped at his tears with the back of his hand, before clearing his throat, trying to sound steady. “I need to go,” he said quietly, already stepping back.
Mark reached out before he could, fingers curling around Donghyuck’s arm. His touch was trembling, his eyes red and glassy. “Then make sure that I’m broken if you leave,” he said, his voice barely holding itself together.
Donghyuck froze, just for a heartbeat. But he didn’t turn around. He brushed off Mark’s hand, the contact burning as it slipped away, and walked toward the door without looking back.
Mark was left standing alone, his chest tight, tears finally spilling over and running hot down his face, proof that maybe he already was.
✦
It took Mark a few weeks before he could even bring himself to tell Jeno and Jisung about everything. Maybe it was guilt, or exhaustion, or just the quiet realization that he couldn’t keep carrying it alone. When he finally did, it wasn’t some big confession— more like the words had been waiting too long and finally found their way out.
He told them about how it started, how it went on longer than it should have, and how it ended without a proper goodbye. And for the first time, saying it out loud made everything sound even more pathetic than it already felt in his head.
They didn’t say much at first. Mark had expected teasing or at least a few jokes, but instead, both of them just looked at him like they finally understood something they should’ve seen earlier.
It made sense, he guessed. They’d always made fun of his crush on Donghyuck, not knowing how deep it actually went or how much he’d been holding in. And now that they did, the teasing stopped. They didn’t pity him, just quietly felt bad that he’d been dealing with it alone.
Mark convinced himself to finally clean his room after weeks, not because he suddenly cared about tidiness, but because he needed something to do that didn’t involve killing himself. His mom’s comment about how she couldn’t even find a place to step on had kind of sealed the deal.
So now he was knee-deep in laundry and half-empty soda cans, trying to convince himself that sorting through the mess might also help him sort through his head. As he reached for a sock that had somehow disappeared under his bedside table, his hand brushed against something solid. Like a book.
Which was weird, because Mark could say with full confidence that he had never in his entire life voluntarily kept a book near his bed.
When he finally pulled the thing out, a sharp pang hit his chest the moment he recognized it. The notebook was covered in carefully placed stickers, a mix of random doodles and brand logos that fit a very particular kind of aesthetic. It was unmistakably Donghyuck’s.
Mark almost laughed, almost cried. Just seeing it made something twist in his chest, but he reminded himself he’d promised to be a better person like, two hours ago.
He took a deep breath, telling himself he should just probably return it, but curiosity had other plans. Really, if Donghyuck could break his heart, Mark figured he deserved to snoop through his notebook just a little.
He flipped through the pages absentmindedly, a soft laugh escaping him at the little complaints Donghyuck had scribbled next to his class notes. Somehow, even on paper, the words carried Donghyuck’s voice perfectly—snarky, sharp, and impossibly precise. Mark couldn’t help but smile, picturing him pacing around, rolling his eyes, muttering the exact phrases as if he were right there in the room.
Chenle asked me how to spell orange? Is he stupid?
That is the ugliest fucking skirt I’ve ever seen.
Xiaojun really out gayed himself.
Mark misses him so much.
Then, he stopped at a page that caught his attention. A polaroid of them was taped there, the one Mark had taken when they went shopping months ago, with Donghyuck trying on a shirt in the dressing room. He lifted the photo to get a better look and noticed a faint writing hidden behind it. Carefully, he peeled the polaroid away.
Weird band geek. Always staring at me like a perv. Everyone should stay the fuck away from this “freak”
Mark froze, unsure how to feel. Part of him knew Donghyuck wasn’t wrong. He probably did stare at him like a perv. But did it really need to be written on the same page as their cute little polaroid? He scoffed, because of course Donghyuck would do that.
His gaze lingered on the polaroid a moment longer, the words scrawled beneath it gnawing at him. Then, in the corner of the page, he noticed a smaller, nearly erased scribble. He leaned closer, heart skipping as he forced his eyes over the faint letters.
maybe because i love him :(
Mark rubbed his eyes, almost aggressively, trying to convince himself this wasn’t just one of his delusional brain moments. After reading it over and over, Mark finally let himself accept that he wasn’t imagining things. Donghyuck had actually written that about him.
Mark sat back on his bed, the notebook still open on his lap. The words burned in his mind, and for the first time in weeks, he allowed himself to think about Donghyuck without anger or confusion clouding it. Maybe he was seeing things correctly. Maybe Donghyuck wasn’t just playing him, maybe there was more behind all the distance and coldness.
He ran a hand through his hair, trying to focus. Cleaning his room had started as a distraction, but now the clutter felt irrelevant. His thoughts were only on the notebook, the faded words, and what they meant.
Mark grabbed his van keys and walked to his van before he could think of any reason not to. If Donghyuck had written something so personal, so real, he deserved to hear Mark’s thoughts in person.
His chest tightened just thinking about it, because the words weren’t just a confession, they were a risk, a crack in the walls Donghyuck always kept so carefully up. And Mark knew, painfully, that this wasn’t the time to let his hesitation win.
✦
Mark kept glancing at his phone, waiting for a notification from Donghyuck while staring at the lake that had once been their ‘private’ spot. They used to come here sometimes to swim, sometimes just to hang out while eating takeout, and more often than not, it ended with both of them panting for air, tangled up in ways Mark was still thinking about.
Mark : i’ll be at our spot tonight. come if you can
It had been forty-five minutes since Donghyuck read Mark’s text, and now he wasn’t even sure if he’d show up. Mark felt ridiculous for letting himself hope, because Donghyuck always left him on read, even back when they were still “together-ish.” But he’d wait until tomorrow if it meant getting a chance to see him again after all these months.
A knock on his window yanked Mark out of his thoughts. He squinted through the dark and immediately spotted Donghyuck, shivering in the cold, breath visible in little puffs with his nose bright red from the winter air. Mark hurriedly unlocked the door and swung it open, the van heater doing little to fight the chill.
“Hyuck, why aren’t you wearing something warmer?” Mark blurted out, his hands trembling from both the cold and his nerves. He hadn’t meant for it to be his first words, but his eyes widened at the sight of Donghyuck in just sweatpants and a thin hoodie, the strings dangling loosely.
“I’m okay,” Donghyuck mumbled, rubbing his arms as if to chase off the chill. Stubborn, Mark thought, his gaze softening. He always pushed himself, pretending the cold didn’t bother him—until he inevitably ended up paying for it later with a fever.
After the door closed, the car was quiet, the hum of the heater filling the space between them. Donghyuck just sat there, waiting for Mark to say something, while Mark blinked, still trying to wrap his head around the fact that he’d actually shown up.
“Hyuck,” he finally called, turning to face him. His chest tightened at the sight of Donghyuck shivering, before he let out a soft sigh.
Without thinking too much, he grabbed his own scarf and draped it around Donghyuck’s neck, tugging it a little snugger to keep out the cold. Donghyuck didn’t resist, just let him fuss over him, and Mark couldn’t stop the grin that spread across his face. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed this.
“I think this is yours,” Mark said after settling back into the seat. He rummaged through his bag before pulling out the notebook, and handing it to Donghyuck.
“Oh, I was wondering where I left it,” Donghyuck replied, taking it with a small smile.
Mark grinned, unable to stop himself. “I saw our polaroid in there,” he said, watching Donghyuck’s reaction carefully. “And… I also saw what you wrote behind it.”
Donghyuck’s fingers froze on the page, and he glanced up at Mark, eyes flicking nervously. “You did?”
Mark leaned back slightly, a teasing smirk tugging at his lips. “Yeah, I did. Can’t say I’m surprised.”
Donghyuck let out a quiet laugh, embarrassed, his gaze flicking back down to the notebook. “I didn’t mean what I wrote,” he admitted, voice low, though there was a softness in it that made Mark’s chest tighten.
“You didn’t mean the part where you said maybe you loved me?” Mark teased, tilting his head with a mischievous smirk.
Donghyuck’s head snapped up, his breath catching. He stared at Mark longer than he intended, before finally muttering, “What are you talking about?”
Mark only pouted and shrugged. “The one you tried to erase in the corner of the page.”
Donghyuck’s eyes darted everywhere but Mark’s, and Mark couldn’t help but smile at how cute the usually confident Donghyuck looked, squirming under his gaze.
“I…” Donghyuck faltered, words failing him.
“Is it true?” Mark pressed, a playful impatience in his tone.
Donghyuck swallowed, before finally meeting Mark’s eyes. “Maybe,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper.
Mark’s smirk widened, leaning a little closer. “Maybe, huh? That’s not a very convincing maybe.”
Donghyuck looked down, fiddling with the edge of the notebook as if it held the answers. “I… I didn’t know if you felt the same.”
“Oh, I think I made that pretty obvious,” Mark teased, his voice low and warm. He let his hand brush against Donghyuck’s on the notebook, a casual touch that sent sparks up his arm.
Donghyuck shivered, though whether it was from the touch or the cold, Mark wasn’t sure. “I didn’t know what to do, because we agreed to keep it casual and I—”
His words were cut off as Mark suddenly pulled him onto his lap. Mark’s hands rested lightly on Donghyuck’s hips, just enough to anchor him there, while Donghyuck froze for a moment, eyes wide, caught somewhere between surprise and something softer, more vulnerable.
“You’re so cute. I missed you.” Mark murmured, the teasing in his tone softening into something warmer.
He drew him closer, slow and careful, until their foreheads touched and the last fraction of space disappeared. Their lips met in a soft, lingering kiss, warm and unhurried—Mark’s tongue brushing Donghyuck’s with a quiet hum that felt like coming home.
It was the first easy breath he’d taken in weeks, the ache of restraint melting away in the gentle press of mouths as the familiar taste of Donghyuck finally filled the hollow he’d carried.
Mark pulled away, his thumb brushed along Donghyuck’s cheek, tracing the warmth there before resting under his chin to make him look up. A soft smile tugged at his lips as he whispered, almost in awe, “I love you, Donghyuck.”
A faint blush crept onto Donghyuck’s cheeks, and he tried to hide the rush of giddiness by rolling his eyes and giving Mark a light shove, lips pulling into a pout. Mark only laughed softly, his hand slipping to Donghyuck’s hip to pull him closer, closing the already nonexistent space between them.
“You really think I’m a freak?” Mark asked, tilting his head to meet his eyes.
“You’re missing the quote mark, idiot,” Donghyuck shot back, his usual sass finally slipping through as he rested both hands on Mark’s shoulders, settling in the familiar comfort.
Mark smiled against the warmth between them, burying his face into the crook of Donghyuck’s neck. The scent was clean and sweet, something Mark could recognize anywhere. It hit him all at once, and he couldn’t help but press small kisses along the skin, earning a quiet squirm of protest that sounded more like a laugh.
“Maybe because you love me?” Mark murmured, his breath hot against Donghyuck’s neck, every word brushing over sensitive skin until Donghyuck shivered.
Like always, Donghyuck tilted his head, unconsciously offering more. His voice came out soft, caught somewhere between surrender and irritation. “Don’t make me say it.”
“You already did, so I’ll let it slide this time.” Mark gave his neck one last kiss before leaning back just enough to meet Donghyuck’s eyes again.
Before he could even grin, Donghyuck grabbed him by the collar and kissed him, hard enough to wipe that smug look right off his face.
Their lips crashed together again, this time deep and greedy. Mark’s tongue pushed past Donghyuck’s with a low, possessive hum that echoed off the already fogging windows. The steering wheel dug into Donghyuck’s back as Mark surged up, sucking on his tongue like he’d been starving for the taste.
Donghyuck melted into it, fingers curling into Mark’s shirt, as Mark’s teeth grazed his bottom lip before soothing it with another slow drag of his tongue, swallowing the soft whine that spilled out.
Mark pulled back slightly, his breath uneven as he stared at Donghyuck’s flushed face. As much as he wanted to keep going, a thought nagged at the back of his mind—a question he’d been holding since the moment he saw Donghyuck that night.
“What’s wrong?” Donghyuck asked, his hand sliding up to brush the back of Mark’s hair.
“I… I gotta ask you,” Mark paused, hunting for the right words while his thumbs traced slow circles along Donghyuck’s hips. “Did you really sleep with Sungchan?”
Donghyuck let out a soft giggle, a sly smile tugging at his lips as he caught the sulkiness in Mark’s voice. “Jealous boy,” he muttered, leaning in to press a quick peck to Mark’s lips.
“Yeah, so? Did you really?” Mark’s brows furrowed, frustration spilling into his expression despite his best efforts.
“No, I didn’t,” Donghyuck said, voice breaking just slightly, the small smile still lingering as he cupped Mark’s face. “I just… figured it would piss you off enough to leave me first. I knew you wouldn’t forgive me if I ever did.”
Mark’s chest tightened at the thought of Donghyuck deliberately trying to make him hate him. The instant regret of what he’d said at the New Year’s party crept back, along with the realization of how much Donghyuck must have been hurting at the time. If he really did love him back then, it must have been unbearable to act that way.
“I would always forgive you for anything,” Mark said, his grip on Donghyuck’s hips firming without hesitation. He didn’t care how desperate it sounded. “It would just break my heart so much if you actually did.”
Donghyuck smiled at that, his hand sliding behind Mark’s neck to pull him closer. He tilted his head, pretending to think, before teasing, “I guess I should try that then.”
Mark scoffed, burying his face into Donghyuck’s chest as he shook his head. “Baby…” he whined, clearly unimpressed by the joke.
Donghyuck let out a soft giggle, fingers brushing through Mark’s hair in reassurance. “I missed hearing you call me that,” he murmured.
Mark lifted his head slightly, the pout fading into a warm smile. “I missed you too, baby,” he said, voice soft but full of affection.
Mark’s hands slipped under the hem of Donghyuck’s hoodie, palms gliding slowly over bare skin, tracing the soft curve of his waist. The warmth of his touch made Donghyuck flinch, a tiny shiver running through him as Mark’s fingers spread wide, mapping every inch like he was memorizing it again after too long. He leaned in, lips brushing Donghyuck’s ear, voice low and raw with weeks of longing.
“I need you,” he whispered, the words trembling out like a confession. His hands tightening just enough to pull Donghyuck closer, hoodie bunching higher with every slow stroke up his sides.
Mark’s lips found his again, softer this time, slower, like he was savoring every second he’d been denied. Donghyuck melted into the kiss, his hands threading into Mark’s hair to pull him closer, to make up for all the time they’d spent apart.
His fingers traced lazy circles along Donghyuck’s sides, then dipped lower, hooking into the waistband of his sweats, tugging just enough to feel the heat radiating beneath. Donghyuck let out a shaky exhale, hips shifting forward on instinct, pressing into Mark’s touch.
“Been thinking about this,” Mark murmured between kisses, voice muffled against Donghyuck’s jaw.
“Every night. Just you. Like this.” His hands slipped fully under the fabric now, palms flat against Donghyuck’s back, pulling him impossibly closer until there was no space left between them, just warmth, breath, and the quiet creak of the driver’s seat beneath their weight.
Mark’s mouth trailed from Donghyuck’s lips down to the soft spot beneath his ear, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses that made Donghyuck tilt his head back despite the limited space. His palms glided along Donghyuck’s spine, tracing down the dip of his waist, before sliding forward to tease the waistband of his sweats.
“Lift up,” Mark murmured, voice husky. Donghyuck obeyed without thinking, hips rising just enough for Mark to tug the sweats and briefs down to mid-thigh. His hand wrapped around Donghyuck’s half-hard cock, stroking slow and firm, thumb swiping over the tip to spread the bead of pre-come.
Donghyuck’s breath hitched, his thighs pressing lightly against Mark’s hips. Mark leaned down, lips closing over one nipple through the hoodie at first, then pushed the fabric up to trace a hot stripe across bare skin with his tongue. He sucked gently, tongue flicking, while his hand kept a steady rhythm below, twisting on every upstroke.
“Mark—” Donghyuck’s voice wavered as his fingers dug into Mark’s shoulders. Mark hummed softly, shifting attention to the other nipple, his teeth grazing lightly before softening with a teasing flick of his tongue.
“Want you ready for me,” Mark whispered against Donghyuck’s chest, lips brushing slick skin. He reached for the glovebox, fumbling one-handed until he found the travel lube, slicking two fingers quickly.
He started with one finger, pressing gently against Donghyuck’s entrance, circling slowly and teasingly without pushing in. Donghyuck’s back arched slightly, breath hitching at the subtle, deliberate touch.
Mark pulled back just enough, smirking. “Why? What do you want me to do?”
Donghyuck couldn’t answer—his hips rolled again, grinding desperately against the circling fingers, searching for more. Mark’s other hand tightened around his cock, giving a firm squeeze that made Donghyuck gasp and drop his head to Mark’s shoulder, breath hot against his neck.
“What do you want, Hyuck?” Mark asked again.
Donghyuck sucked in a shaky breath. “I want your fingers inside me,” he rasped, the plea cracking on the edge of a beg.
Mark’s smirk widened. “Just my fingers?” He circled closer, pressing lightly at the entrance.
Donghyuck’s lips parted, but no sound followed. Mark didn’t pause to wait for an answer. He quickly slid one slick finger in deep, curling it right against that spot he knew Donghyuck liked so much. Donghyuck’s back arched, a sharp cry muffled against Mark’s shoulder as the van filled with the wet sound of lube and breath.
“More,” he rasped, hips chasing the touch. “Another finger—please.”
Mark leaned close, lips brushing Donghyuck’s ear. “You’re always so greedy,” he whispered, voice low and filthy.
He added the second without wasting any time, scissoring gently, stretching him open with deliberate twists. Donghyuck’s thighs trembled, hips rocking down to meet the push as his low whine brushed against Mark’s neck. Mark crooked both fingers, stroking that spot again, slow and firm, until Donghyuck’s whole body clenched, breath coming in short, desperate pants.
“I’m ready,” Donghyuck gasped, voice wrecked, hips grinding down hard. “Mark, please, I’m ready, just fuck me.”
Mark eased his fingers out, the slick drag making Donghyuck whine at the emptiness. He fumbled with his jeans, shoving them down just enough to free his own cock, already hard and leaking. He slicked himself fast, one hand steadying Donghyuck’s hip while the other guided the head to his entrance.
He pushed in one steady, burning glide, watching every flicker across Donghyuck’s face as the tight heat swallowed him inch by inch. Donghyuck’s breath stuttered, mouth falling open on a silent gasp when Mark bottomed out, the steering wheel creaking as Donghyuck’s back arched against it.
Mark paused, letting Donghyuck adjust as their foreheads pressed together. “So fucking tight,” he whispered, thumb stroking the inside of Donghyuck’s thigh. Donghyuck’s legs wrapped tighter around his waist.
“Move,” Donghyuck breathed, voice trembling. Mark pulled back slow, almost all the way, then thrust up again—deeper, smoother, the van rocking faintly with the motion. He set a steady rhythm, long thrusts that dragged over every sensitive spot, until Donghyuck’s moans filled the confined space, his hands clawing at Mark’s back.
“Look at you,” he whispered, lips brushing the shell of Donghyuck’s ear. “panting for air like you can’t get enough of me.”
Mark’s thighs flexed beneath him as he drove up again, burying himself to the hilt. Donghyuck’s nails raked down Mark’s shoulders, leaving red lines through his hoodie. “Fuck, there,” he gasped, voice cracking.
Mark didn’t let up. He set a brutal rhythm: long, punishing strokes that lifted Donghyuck an inch off his lap with every upward snap, before slamming him back down. The air was thick with the wet slap of skin and Donghyuck’s broken cries.
Sweat beaded on Mark’s forehead, dripping onto Donghyuck’s collarbone as he angled his hips, hitting that spot over and over until Donghyuck’s thighs shook uncontrollably.
“Mark, I’m close,” Donghyuck whimpered, head lolling forward. His cock, trapped between them, leaked steadily, smearing slick across Mark’s stomach with every grind.
Mark groaned, one hand sliding to grip Donghyuck’s ass, spreading him wider for the next thrust—deeper, harder, as the van rocked violently now. “Come on me, baby,” he rasped, voice raw.
Donghyuck’s breath fractured into a sob, his whole body seizing. He came with a sharp cry, untouched, pulsing hot between them, stripes of white painting Mark’s hoodie and stomach.
The clench around Mark’s cock dragged him over too. Making him bury himself deep with a final, shuddering thrust, before spilling inside with a low groan, hips jerking through the aftershocks.
He stayed buried deep, arms sliding around Donghyuck’s back to hold him close, as their chests pressed together. The steering wheel was digging into Donghyuck’s spine, but neither moved to shift as the discomfort felt grounding.
Donghyuck lifted his head, nose brushing Mark’s temple. “Fuck,” he breathed, voice hoarse, a shaky laugh bubbling up. “I can’t believe I let you fuck me in your stupid van.”
Mark grinned lazily. “You begged for it in my stupid van,” he murmured, lips grazing Donghyuck’s jaw.
Mark eased out slowly, swallowing Donghyuck’s soft whine with a kiss. He reached behind Donghyuck, snagging a pack of wet wipes from the glovebox. One quick tug as he starts wiping them both down with gentle swipes across Donghyuck’s stomach, between his thighs, then himself, the cool cloth cutting through the sticky heat.
Donghyuck slumped against his shoulder, eyes half-lidded, letting Mark tuck his clothing back into place before tossing the used wipes into a plastic bag with a quiet rustle.
Mark pulled him closer, arms tightening around Donghyuck’s back. “You okay?” he murmured, lips brushing the side of his temple.
Donghyuck nodded, voice muffled against Mark’s neck. “Yeah… just don’t let go yet.”
“Okay,” Mark whispered, fingers threading through his damp hair. “Missed holding you like this. Missed you.”
Donghyuck’s arms curled tighter around Mark’s waist. “I know,” he breathed. “Me too.”
His hands slowly brushed over Donghyuck’s back, offering a quiet comfort to the boy who still insisted on staying on top of him. They lingered like that for a few minutes, letting the longing they’d both held for months speak through touch alone.
After a while, Mark tapped lightly on his back, prompting Donghyuck, who was still buried against his neck, to lift his head and look up at him.
“Are you worried? If everyone finds out?” Mark asked, bracing himself for whatever answer might come.
“No,” Donghyuck said softly, resting his head back against Mark’s chest.
“Why not?”
Donghyuck’s fingers traced lazy circles across Mark’s chest as he spoke. “Because my reputation isn’t the only thing I care about anymore.”
Mark smiled at that, knowing full well Donghyuck was throwing his words back at him. His hand cupped Donghyuck’s cheek, tilting his head up to meet his gaze. He pressed a long, gentle kiss to his cheek before rubbing it softly with his thumb. Donghyuck’s eyes fluttered at the sudden affection, a blush creeping up his face.
“I love you, Donghyuck,” Mark whispered.
Donghyuck rolled his eyes playfully, a hand sliding up Mark’s neck. “How many times are you going to tell me that?”
Mark hummed, a soft grin tugging at his lips. “Until I hear it back from you.”
Donghyuck laughed, the sound warm and light to Mark’s ears. “I love you, Mark.”
Mark leaned in closer, capturing Donghyuck’s lips in a slow, lingering kiss. Soft and warm, it pressed all the unspoken words between them into that one moment. Donghyuck melted against him, his hands threading into Mark’s hair again, tugging him closer. Their foreheads rested together, breaths mingling, hearts hammering in unison as if the world outside the van didn’t exist.