Archive of Our Own

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[ track one:  i knew you were trouble ]

The night Donghyuck met his brother’s fiancé, he knew he was in trouble.

Not the kind of trouble that came with failing grades or missed deadlines, but the kind that tightened low in his stomach and made him feel restless in his own skin. Trouble with a capital T, the kind that made him forget how to be sensible. 

He hadn’t expected it. Honestly, he hadn’t expected much of anything when he had agreed to fly back from Oxford for Jeno’s grand engagement dinner. He had pictured stiff formality, a fiancé who looked as dull as he sounded over family group chats. Something safe, something sorted. That was Jeno’s style.

But then Mark walked into his life.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t known about Mark, he had. Jeno had sent pictures of him in the family group chat more than once, usually attached to a caption as dry as his personality. Mark ordered this pasta tonight or Mark and I went to this conference. Their mother reacted with too many hearts, their older relatives with thumbs-up emojis, and Donghyuck barely glanced at the photos before swiping them away, too busy to care.

He had even scrolled past Mark’s face on Jeno’s Instagram feed now. So yes, technically, he had seen Mark before. He just had not looked. And if he had, he might’ve been prepared for the fact that Mark wasn’t ordinary.

It was supposed to be simple with Jeno meeting him at the arrivals gate with the same calm grin he had carried since they were kids. And Jeno was there, punctual as ever, holding a sign that said “Welcome Home, Hyuckie!” in his messy handwriting. 

What Donghyuck hadn’t accounted for was the man standing beside him.

Because this Mark, the one waiting at the arrivals gate with Jeno, the one standing steady under the fluorescent lights of the airport with his sleeves rolled casually to his elbows, was not the man in those filtered, forgettable photos.

This Mark had a black undercut, shaved clean at the sides with just enough length on top to fall when he pushed his hand through it. It framed his face, sharp and cool in a way that made Donghyuck’s stomach jolt like he had missed a step. The undercut hadn’t been in any of the pictures. He was sure of it. And clearly, that small difference was enough to tip the balance between approachable and dangerously attractive.

Donghyuck dragged his suitcase past the sliding doors and tried to pretend like he hadn’t just found his future brother in law attractive. 

“Hyuck,” Jeno greeted, pulling him into a hug.

“Barely survived the flight,” Donghyuck muttered, muffled against Jeno’s shoulder.

Only when they pulled apart did Jeno remember the formality of introductions, “Right. This is Mark. My fiancé”

Mark stepped forward. His hand came up in an easy offer, his smile soft, “It’s good to finally meet you.”

Donghyuck blinked, then took it. The handshake was firm, his palm warm, his eye contact steady in a way that made Donghyuck’s own gaze falter first. It lasted barely a moment, but long enough for Donghyuck to notice the kind of details he didn’t want to be noticing, how Mark’s thumb pressed gently against the back of his hand, how close his lashes looked up close, how his smile curved and then it was over.

“Yeah,” Donghyuck said, his tone clipped to hide the strange pull under his ribs, “You too.”

They started toward the parking garage, Jeno filling the air with talk about schedules and how long Donghyuck was staying. Donghyuck let him. His mind was busy trying to reconcile memory with reality. Did Mark really look this good in all those pictures?

The car ride was more of the same. Mark drove while Jeno was next to him. Donghyuck sat in the backseat, half-listening as they discussed dinner plans. He tried not to look too much at Mark’s profile lit by the passing streetlights, or the way he laughed quietly at something Jeno said.

He turned his attention to the window instead, watching the blur of the city slip past. Anything to avoid the truth settling in, that he had missed this. That he should have paid attention when Jeno first shared those pictures, because maybe then he wouldn’t be caught so off guard now.

By the time they pulled into their driveway, Donghyuck had talked a little more than the bare minimum. But even as he grabbed his suitcase and followed them inside, the thought he didn’t want to have kept circling back.

Mark looked really fucking attractive and that felt like the start of a problem Donghyuck didn’t know how to name yet.

Gravel crunched under the tires as the front of the mansion came into view, trimmed hedges cut into sharp angles, and windows so tall they seemed to stretch toward the sky. It wasn’t new, of course. This had always been home. And yet, stepping out of the car after months away, Donghyuck still felt like it swallowed him whole.

Inside, the house greeted him with polished marble, the familiar curve of the staircase and a huge chandelier which wasn’t there the last time he was home. 

“Hyuck!” His mother’s voice carried before he even set down his bag. She swept across the foyer in heels that clicked too loudly, perfume enveloping him as she pulled him into a hug, “My boy, you’re finally here.”

Donghyuck groaned, half-muffled in her shoulder, “Mom, I just got off a fourteen-hour flight. Don’t crush me.”

“You look pale,” She said, ignoring him, “Leean! Come down, your brother’s home!”

A blur of movement on the staircase followed, his younger sister jumping down the last few steps two at a time, hair tied messily, phone still in her hand. She flung herself into him with no hesitation, nearly knocking him back, “You didn’t even text me when you landed!”

“I was kidnapped straight into the car by your favorite brother,” Donghyuck said, patting her head. “You can take it up with Jeno.”

Leean stuck her tongue out in Jeno’s direction. Donghyuck’s father greeted, emerging from his study. His presence filled the room without effort, his tailored suit still crisp despite the late hour, “My entire family is finally here.”

Donghyuck hugged him too, and yet he was blissfully aware about the presence of Mark just a few steps away from him. He tried to shrug it off, citing hunger and hoping it was just his mind messing with him. 

Dinner waited in the dining hall,  The long mahogany table glowed under soft golden light, a chandelier dripping crystals above it. Platters lined the surface, short ribs, steamed dumplings, japchae, seafood stew that filled the air with spice, side dishes enough to cover every inch. The kind of spread Donghyuck used to complain about, though he couldn’t deny the comfort of it now after spending months on the British island.

They took their seats in a natural order. His father at the head, his mother beside him, Leean at the corner. Jeno and Mark slid in together, which left Donghyuck across from them. 

Conversation began in layers, the way it always did. His mother fussing over whether he had eaten on the flight, his father asking about his coursework, Leean interrupting to demand gifts from abroad. Donghyuck played his role with ease, telling half-stories that made everyone on the table giggle.

It wasn’t until his father’s attention shifted that Mark’s voice joined the current.

“And you, Mark,” his father said, pouring wine into his glass, “How has work treated you lately? Heard your family is expanding the hotel chain to South Asia and Southeast Asia as well.”

“Yeah, it has been busy,” Mark admitted, “But rewarding. I just wrapped up a large project regarding that, so this trip came at the perfect time.”

“You work too much,” Jeno muttered.

Mark’s smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, warm but measured, “Maybe. But I’ll tone it down after the wedding.”

Donghyuck’s chopsticks stilled briefly on his plate. There was something so genuine about the way Mark said it. His eyes crinkled slightly when he smiled, his hand steady as it set down the wine glass.

Leean leaned in on her elbows, chin in her hands, “Is the hotel business more interesting than what we do, pharmaceuticals?

“Sometimes,” Mark said, “But I don’t really look over the fun parts. My younger brother is planning to take care of those. My job is still all about finances and signing contracts.”

“That’s boring,” Leean declared, making everyone laugh.

“Better boring than dramatic,” Jeno said smoothly, passing her the kimchi dish.

“So what made you two decide on marriage now?” His mother asked then.

“Convenience.” Jeno deadpanned.

“We have known each other for four years. Spent the whole college life together,” Mark said, his tone calm, “We want similar things, are compatible and it felt like the right step. Plus, it seems good for the family businesses.”

Donghyuck chewed slowly, gaze flicking between them. Similar things. The right step. All so neat and so rational. Was love supposed to be this tidy and so business minded?

He swallowed, leaning back against his chair, “So are you on the vacation page now, or still on the business page?”

Mark’s eyes lifted to meet his, surprised for a heartbeat before amusement flickered there. “Vacation. Definitely vacation.”

“Good,” Donghyuck said smoothly, twirling his chopsticks in one hand, “I would hate for you to spend family dinners drafting emails in your head.”

The corners of Mark’s mouth curved, not the polite smile he had worn earlier but something real, “I’ll try to keep my focus here.”

“Good luck,” Jeno muttered, and the table broke into laughter again.

Donghyuck didn’t laugh immediately. He was too busy noticing the way Mark’s laugh settled lower than expected, the way his hand tapped lightly against the table as though keeping rhythm. 

The conversation slipped into more random topics. His father and Jeno talked about exports and imports, Leean chipped in to mention how highschool was stressing her out and she didn’t know if she should apply to Ivy or Oxbridge, her mother talking about the social events she planned to host.

Donghyuck let himself sink into the sound of it but his attention stayed where it didn’t belong. Mark had rolled his sleeves up neatly to the elbows, forearms resting against the edge of the table. Every time he reached for a dish, Donghyuck caught the subtle strength in his wrists. He didn’t talk too much, but when he did, everyone listened.

Donghyuck tapped his spoon against his plate, pretending to be restless. In reality, he was trying to keep from staring like some starstruck idiot.

“Hyuck, pass the potatoes,” Jeno nudged him.

He blinked, startled, before quickly handing the dish across the table. His mother gave him a sharp look, the kind that said you’re zoning out again, but she moved on quickly to ask Mark about work.

“I’ve been taking over more and more jobs for my father.. Preparing to be the CEO in a few years” He smiled, a little self-deprecatingly, and looked down briefly as if embarrassed to talk about himself.

Donghyuck hated that even that felt magnetic.

“That’s awesome actually. I am sure you will be a great leader,” his father perked up.

Mark only shrugged, modest, while Jeno added, “He’s good at it. I’ve seen him. People actually listen to him.”

Donghyuck’s mother beamed, clearly delighted, “That’s wonderful, Mark. I’m glad Jeno has you.”

Donghyuck swallowed a laugh at how that sounded, chewing his food just to keep his mouth busy. 

It wasn’t until the attention shifted away, when Leean started chattering about her school play and everyone listened indulgently, that Donghyuck risked a quieter look. Mark had leaned back a little, nodding as Leean described her role, one hand loosely turning his glass in circles. He tore his gaze away.

“So,” Mark’s voice cut in, directed at him this time, “How’s college? Jeno mentioned you’re finishing up your degree soon?”

Donghyuck straightened, caught off guard, “Yeah. Just another year left.”

“In what?”

“Database marketing and business communications.”

“That’s broad,” Mark said, tilting his head.

“Broad is good. Keeps me from dying of boredom,” Donghyuck shot back, resting his chin in his palm.

That earned a small laugh, quick and low, “Fair enough.”

The sound sent something crawling down Donghyuck’s spine, though he covered it with a practiced smirk, “And you? Becoming the CEO doesn’t sound all that exciting either. Is it a lot of bossing people around?”

“Something like that,” Mark admitted, still smiling, “Though I like to think I don’t ‘boss.’ More like.. guide.”

Donghyuck arched his brow, “Oh, so you’re the nice kind of boss. Bet that makes it easy for people to slack off.”

“Not if they want to stay in the company,” Mark replied smoothly.

There it was again. That subtle confidence that made Mark look so attractive. Donghyuck found himself staring longer than necessary, until Leean poked him with her fork and demanded he stop ignoring her.

The table slipped into another round of chatter, but the undercurrent had shifted for him. It wasn’t just Mark’s answers, it was the way he had met his gaze directly, the way his laugh had been aimed at him and not the rest of the table.

As the dishes changed, dessert coming out in silver trays, Donghyuck leaned back in his chair, letting the conversation drift. His father was asking about wedding plans now, his mother gushing about flower arrangements, and Jeno patiently going over a checklist. Mark contributed quietly, steady as always, the ideal son-in-law.

Donghyuck, however, was lost. Because all he could think was how strange it was, that something so stable could suddenly feel electric, just because Mark had looked at him a little too long across the table.

He reached for his glass, sipping slowly, pretending to focus on Leean’s ongoing monologue about wedding shopping. But his thoughts weren’t here. They were tangled, dangerous, and he hated how easily Mark had slipped beneath his skin.

By the time dinner ended, and everyone stood to clear plates and move toward the lounge, Donghyuck was almost grateful. He needed space, needed distance, needed a second to breathe. Because if he sat across from Mark’s steady smile for even a minute longer, he wasn’t sure what would give first, his patience or his composure.

Donghyuck sank into one of the couches, letting his body fall back into the cushions, grateful to be away from the stiffness of dinner. Leean immediately claimed her usual spot, curling up on the armrest of a couch with her phone, thumbs flying across the screen. 

“Dinner was too long,” she muttered, “I swear, adults can talk for three hours straight about weather and flights. No offense, Hyuck.”

“None taken,” Donghyuck said smoothly, stretching his legs out, “But at least I was the interesting topic. You should thank me for saving you from boredom.”

She shot him a look, “You weren’t that interesting. Half the time you were glaring at your plate like it insulted you.”

Jeno rolled his eyes, tugging his fiancé down beside him with casual ease, “Ignore her. She just likes to run her mouth.”

But Mark didn’t ignore her. He leaned slightly forward, his expression curious, “So, Leean, huh? What makes us adults boring?”

She blinked, clearly pleased that she had his attention. “Where do I even start?” Her grin widened, mischievous and bright. “Okay, let’s start with Jeno Oppa. He is on the phone all day with dad, handling business. His only passion is watching F1 and besides that, his idea of fun is-”

“Careful,” Jeno cut in

“Sleeping the whole day,” Leean finished dramatically, throwing her hands up. “See? Tragic.”

The whole room chuckled, even Mr. and Mrs. Lee exchanging knowing glances. Mark’s laugh wasn’t loud, but it was warm, a quiet rumble that reached his eyes. And Donghyuck, against his better judgment, felt the sound slip under his skin in a way it shouldn’t have.

He forced his gaze away, focusing instead on the fireplace. This was ridiculous. 

“Okay, seriously,” Leean said suddenly, pointing her phone like a microphone toward Mark, “You two are the same people. All boring business types. You guys need some fun. Why are you marrying each other?”

“Leean!” Mrs. Lee’s voice was sharp this time, but the seventeen-year-old only grinned wider.

Mark didn’t look offended. If anything, he tilted his head, considering the question with more seriousness than it deserved. “Because,” he said finally, glancing at Jeno with a small smile, “We’re not boring to each other.”

That silenced even Leean, at least for a beat, before she made a gagging noise and flopped back into the couch cushions. Jeno reached over to flick her forehead, which only earned another dramatic groan.

Donghyuck sat there, pretending to be amused like the rest of them, but something about the answer pressed too hard against his ribs. The conversation shifted then, vacations, colleges, half-forgotten family stories that resurfaced when wine and dessert had warmed everyone’s mood. 

Donghyuck, as usual, slipped easily into his role as the sarcastic commentator. He threw in a jab about Jeno crying during a childhood trip to Jeju, and Leean immediately backed him up with exaggerated impressions. Even their father chuckled, and for a while, the lounge filled with easy laughter.

But every time Donghyuck looked up, Mark seemed to be there, listening. Sometimes laughing quietly, sometimes meeting his eyes for just a fraction too long before looking away. It was nothing. Nothing at all, but Donghyuck felt it like a spark under his skin, irritating in the way it refused to fade.

When Leean complained loudly that she wanted more ice cream, Mark was the one who stood first, offering casually, “I’ll check if the kitchen has any left.” His tone was easy, polite, but Donghyuck found himself halfway to standing before catching himself. Why would he need to follow? Why did he even want to?

He sank back into the couch, fingers curling against his thigh, and told himself it was nothing more than a habit. He was just being a good host, that was all. But when Mark returned with a bowl and set it gently in front of Leean, her exaggerated thank you made everyone laugh, except Donghyuck, who was too busy watching Mark’s forearms.

And later, when Jeno slipped out to answer a call, the moment was sharper than Donghyuck expected. Mark leaned back into the couch, glass in hand, the firelight catching against his face. For the first time, Donghyuck let himself study him without rushing.

“So,” Donghyuck heard himself say, voice lighter than he intended, “Do you like it here?”

Mark looked over, brow lifting, and for one long second, the silence stretched too far. Then he smiled, slow and knowing, “Yeah, I really do.”

Donghyuck swallowed. The room wasn’t quiet, his parents were still speaking in the background, Leean’s nails clicking on her phone, but somehow it felt like the words had shifted the air around them.

He looked away first, heart beating faster than it should have, and by the time Jeno returned, everything looked perfectly normal again.

The house eventually began to wind down after dinner. Conversation had tapered off into comfortable murmurs, Leean had disappeared upstairs with a yawn and her phone glowing in her hand, and even Jeno had started shifting in his seat with the calm impatience of someone who liked routines and sleep more than long, lingering evenings.

Their father had poured one last glass of wine and raised it toward Mark with the kind of pride that only came from knowing the man was about to be part of their family, and Donghyuck, sitting back in the corner of the couch, had felt it like a stone in his stomach.

Goodnights were exchanged in the foyer, voices softened by the vastness of the hall, footsteps echoing against marble. Donghyuck smiled, hugged Leean when she passed, said his goodnight to his father, and let Jeno ruffle his hair like he was still sixteen. Mark, though, was the one he tried not to look at too long.

When he reached his room, Donghyuck shut the door and leaned back against it, letting the silence wrap around him. His childhood bedroom stared back at him, but it didn’t comfort him. 

He moved through his nighttime motions half on autopilot, washing his face, brushing his teeth, setting his phone on the nightstand. But when he crawled beneath the sheets, sleep refused to come. His mind didn’t drift toward exams or travel fatigue or the comfort of being home again. It snagged on smaller things, details from just a few hours earlier.

Just how good looking Mark really was, the way his laugh carried through the room, his intoxicating scent. He flipped onto his side, pressing his face into the pillow. It was stupid. So stupid. Mark was here because he was engaged to Jeno. Jeno, who had always been the golden child, who deserved every bit of his happiness. And Donghyuck had been given a hundred reminders of that fact over the course of the evening. 

Yet, none of it seemed to matter once Donghyuck’s eyes closed and his imagination betrayed him. The picture of Mark across from him at the table replayed like a loop, lips parting around a glass of wine, hand brushing his sleeve, eyes lifting to meet Donghyuck’s for a second too long. That second had burned. It had rooted itself somewhere low in his chest, refusing to dissolve. And now, alone, Donghyuck replayed it until it felt like heat under his skin.

He threw the blanket off, too warm, padded barefoot across the room to the balcony doors, and slid them open. The night air rushed in, cool against his face. Below, the gardens sprawled, manicured hedges softened by shadows, fountains glittering faintly under moonlight. He leaned against the frame, arms folded, trying to steady his thoughts.

It should have been easy to dismiss. He had lived enough to know that fleeting attraction didn’t mean anything. Sleep never came. Instead, he lingered on the balcony until the night blurred into a softer blue, his body buzzing with a restlessness he couldn’t shake. 

By the time he finally returned to bed, Donghyuck had admitted something he shouldn’t have, even if only to himself

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[ track two: hey ya! ]

By the time Donghyuck finally gave up on the pretense of sleep, light was already streaming through tall windows, slashing across the balcony floor and catching on the pale curtains.

He heard footsteps outside his door as their house staff moved quietly through halls, the faint clink of polished silverware carried from the dining room, and somewhere in the distance, a gardener’s lawn mower whirred.

Donghyuck padded toward the wardrobe and tugged out the first thing his hand found, loose gray sweats and a worn black t-shirt. He didn’t bother with brushing his hair back, only dragged fingers through the mess once before giving up. 

By the time he shuffled downstairs, the scent of coffee was already curling through the hall. His body responded before his brain did, pulling him toward the dining room where a long, gleaming table had been set with an almost absurd spread, eggs, pastries, porridge, fresh fruit, croissants. 

And at the far end of the table, already seated with a mug in hand, was Mark.

Donghyuck stalled in the doorway, hand still half-buried in his hair. He hadn’t prepared for the sight of Mark looking maddeningly put together in just a plain white t-shirt and jeans, one wrist resting easy against the table as he scrolled through something on his phone. 

“You’re up late,” Mark said, voice low, still rough from sleep in a way that scraped against Donghyuck’s already thin nerves.

Donghyuck arched his brow, walking in like he hadn’t been frozen in the doorway, “Isn’t it just nine.”

Mark countered with a small smile, lifting his mug, “That’s practically noon for me.”

Donghyuck reached for the coffee carafe, poured himself a mug full, and muttered into it, “Anything before eight is ungodly.”

He sat down opposite him, cradling the mug like it was the only thing tethering him to sanity. He took a sip, grimaced at how hot it was, then muttered, “Figures. Even the coffee in this house is trying to kill me.”

Mark looked up from his plate, biting back a smile, “Or maybe you’re just not patient enough to let it cool.”

Donghyuck tilted his head, unimpressed, “Do I look like the patient type to you?”

Mark let his gaze flick over him briefly. He took another sip of his own coffee before answering, calm as ever, “Not even a little.”

Donghyuck smirked into his mug, “At least you perceived me right.”

There was a beat of quiet as the staff set down a dish of fruit between them. Mark reached for it first, offering the plate across the table, “Want some?”

Donghyuck looked at him like he had just offered him poison. “You think fruit is going to fix the fact that I’m jetlagged, missing the UK, and apparently expected to play nice with strangers before ten in the morning?”

“Stranger’s a stretch,” Mark said evenly, still holding the plate out “We’ve met.”

“You picked me up from the airport,” Donghyuck corrected, pushing the plate away with two fingers, “That doesn’t make us anything.”

Mark finally set the fruit down, unbothered. “Fair. But I am marrying your brother in two months, so that does make us related.”

Donghyuck narrowed his eyes, caught between irritation and reluctant amusement, “You’re annoyingly good at coming up with responses quickly.”

Mark shrugged, the corner of his mouth tugging up, “It's a skill that comes in handy.”

“You’re not going to sit there and act like you’re enjoying this, right?”

“Breakfast?” Mark asked, deliberately misunderstanding.

“No.” Donghyuck set his mug down hard, “Me. I’m not exactly charming right now.”

Mark finally met his eyes directly, gaze steady in a way that made Donghyuck want to fidget but refused to let himself, “I don’t mind the sharp, cut-throat responses. In fact, I prefer them over the polite, pretentious ones.”

Donghyuck blinked, heartbeat stuttering, before covering it with a scoff, “Great. Then I’m your dream come true.”

“If that’s what you want to be,” Mark said simply, returning to his coffee without another word.

Donghyuck sat back, chest buzzing, the taste of coffee suddenly too bitter on his tongue. He had almost finished it when he realized Mark’s plate still looked the same. It was unsettling, honestly. People usually squirmed under Donghyuck’s early-morning moods. Mark looked like he had been born immune.

“Do you always eat this slowly,” Donghyuck asked, voice cutting through the silence, “Or are you trying to make me uncomfortable?”

Mark didn’t look up, “You’re uncomfortable?”

Donghyuck made a face, “I didn’t say that. I asked if you’re trying to make me uncomfortable.”

“Same thing actually.”

“No, I asked you a question,” Donghyuck corrected, tapping his finger against his mug, “But thanks for confessing that you’re annoying.”

Mark’s mouth twitched. He stabbed another piece of egg with his fork, “It’s called being relaxed. You should try it sometime.”

Donghyuck gave a sharp laugh. “Relaxed? I crossed time zones, slept four hours, and woke up to my whole family disappearing on me. What exactly about this screams ‘relax’ to you?”

“The food’s good,” Mark said, shrugging, “The coffee’s hot. The house is quiet.” He looked up finally, his eyes glinting under the kitchen light. “Doesn’t take much if you don’t overthink it. And your family did not disappear. Leean is off to school, your parents are in the garden and Jeno is still sleeping. Appreciate the quietness while you can.”

Donghyuck rolled his eyes, “Wow. So you’re a philosopher now.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

“You just gave me a TED Talk about appreciating silence.”

“That was hardly a talk,” Mark said dryly, “You would know if I was lecturing you.”

“Oh, so you lecture people.”

“Sometimes.”

Donghyuck tilted his head, leaning onto one elbow, “Bet you’re unbearable when you do.”

“Depends who’s listening.”

“Mm.” Donghyuck hummed into his mug, “Lucky me, then.”

Mark didn’t answer, but that almost-smile was back again. Donghyuck noticed it and felt that irritating flicker in his chest. He pressed on.

“So what, you’re just going to be here every morning?” he asked, “Sitting in this perfect kitchen, eating perfect food, making perfect conversation with whoever stumbles in?”

Mark raised an eyebrow, “You think this is a perfect conversation?”

Donghyuck smirked, “You’re still talking to me. So either it’s perfect, or you’re desperate for company.”

“I wouldn’t say desperate.”

“No?” Donghyuck leaned forward, hair falling into his eyes, “Then why are you entertaining me?”

Mark’s fork stilled for half a second, then he set it down neatly. He leaned back in his chair, completely at ease, “Because you’re entertaining me.”

Donghyuck froze. For one heartbeat, his brain went completely blank, as if someone had yanked the rug out from under his practiced sarcasm. Then he scoffed, leaning back just as far to mask the slip, “Wow. You really think you’re smooth.”

“I wasn’t trying to be.”

“Sure you weren’t.”

“Why would I try?”

Donghyuck blinked. That wasn’t the answer he expected. He recovered with a smirk, “You mean people usually just fall at your feet without effort?”

Mark laughed softly, shaking his head, “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?”

Mark met his gaze directly, “That I don’t need to try when you’re already this worked up.”

Donghyuck’s jaw went slack before he snapped it shut. He laughed, but it came out sharper than intended, “Worked up? Please. I’m just caffeinated.”

“Sure.”

“Don’t give me that tone,” Donghyuck shot back, “Like you’ve figured me out.”

Mark just sipped his coffee, calm, “Didn’t say I had.”

“But you think you have.”

“No,” Mark said. He set his mug down and leaned forward just slightly, “I think you want me to.”

Donghyuck went still. The words landed heavier than he liked, making his pulse kick against his throat. He forced out a laugh, shaking his head, “You must be fun at parties.”

“I don’t go to many.”

“Shocker.”

“You?” Mark asked.

Donghyuck raised a brow, “Me, what?”

“You go to parties?”

Donghyuck scoffed, “Obviously.”

“Obviously,” Mark repeated, like he had expected nothing less, “Bet you hold court the whole night.”

“Hold court?”

“Yeah. Center of attention, cracking jokes, making everyone circle around you.”

Donghyuck smirked, twirling his mug by the handle, “What makes you think that?”

Mark’s answer was so simple it made Donghyuck’s chest tighten, “Because you can’t stand being ignored.”

Donghyuck laughed a little too loud, trying to shake it off, “God, you really do think you’re a mind reader.”

“I just pay attention.”

“That’s worse,” Donghyuck muttered, “Creepy, even.”

Mark tilted his head. “Creepy, or accurate?”

Donghyuck’s fingers tightened around his mug, heat bleeding into his palms. He set it down, choosing deflection over honesty, “You should stop before you scare me off.”

Mark leaned back again, unbothered, “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Silence fell, heavy but not uncomfortable. Donghyuck hated that his skin still buzzed from the exchange. He grabbed for the fruit plate just to do something with his hands.

He picked up a slice of melon, inspected it, then wrinkled his nose, “This looks suspicious.”

Mark raised an eyebrow, “Suspicious?”

“Too perfect,” Donghyuck explained, waving it like evidence, “Cut into these neat little cubes. Probably poisoned.”

“Then don’t eat it.”

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t eat it.”

Mark chuckled, “You complain about everything, don’t you?”

“It’s called having standards.” Donghyuck popped the melon into his mouth, chewed thoughtfully, then shrugged, “Okay, not poisoned. Still suspicious.”

Mark watched him with that unreadable calm, “You’re a lot in the morning.”

Donghyuck grinned, leaning back, “And you’re boring.”

“Boring?”

“Yeah. Sitting there like you’re a monk on a retreat. You don’t even flinch.”

Mark tilted his head, eyes warm with quiet amusement, “Why would I?”

“Because normal people react.”

“I am reacting.”

“Where? Blink twice if you’re alive.”

Mark actually laughed at that, soft but genuine, and Donghyuck found himself staring a second too long. He covered it with another smirk, “There it is. Took me twenty minutes to get a laugh out of you.”

“Maybe you’re persistent.”

“Maybe you’re impossible.”

“Same thing,” Mark said, finishing his coffee.

Donghyuck shook his head, but his lips curved despite himself. The morning had started with exhaustion, but now there was a restless energy under his skin that had nothing to do with caffeine.

The rhythm of their back-and-forth had grown so easy, so quick, that Donghyuck almost forgot what time it was. He was leaning too comfortably in his chair, one elbow propped on the table, a smirk tugging at his lips as Mark peeled his orange with absurd precision, and it felt like they could have kept going like that all morning.

But then the door at the far end opened, and in swept the rest of the household, his parents and Jeno trailing behind with his usual half-sleepy scowl. The energy in the room shifted instantly.

Donghyuck saw it the moment it happened. Mark’s shoulders straightened, the sharp, teasing glint in his eyes dimmed like someone had turned a switch. He set down the half-peeled orange, wiped his hand discreetly on a napkin, and rose from his seat to greet them with the kind of polite warmth that belonged in some etiquette manual.

“Good morning,” Mark said evenly, bowing his head slightly toward Donghyuck’s parents before clasping Jeno’s shoulder with an easy grin, “Did you all sleep well?”

It was flawless, not fake, but polished, a version of himself sanded down at the edges. The sharp tongue that had been sparring with Donghyuck only a minute ago was gone, tucked away behind impeccable manners. 

Donghyuck just sat there, watching the transformation with his food halfway to his lips. He hadn’t even realized how much he had enjoyed bantering with that other Mark, the one who looked alive in a way that didn’t match this perfectly measured version.

He covered his sudden quiet with another sip, but something restless coiled in his chest. And for the first time that morning, he thought maybe he wanted to see just how far he could push. If Mark could be pulled out of that polished shell again. If Mark could be shown that there were better ways to spend his time here than playing polite guest.

Donghyuck leaned back in his chair, watching Mark laugh at something his father said, the polite curve of his smile giving nothing away. 

He could show Mark Lee a little fun.

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[ track three: so high  ]

The Lee family didn’t do small gatherings.

Even something as simple as “a casual afternoon by the pool” turned into a catered event, with staff carrying trays of lemonade and fruit, speakers hidden somewhere in the garden humming out a playlist Leean had put together, and a handful of cousins already draped across lounge chairs.

Jisung was already red in the face from laughing, his drink sloshing dangerously close to the edge of his glass. Beomgyu, of course, was egging him on, loud enough to make even the staff hiding by the patio flinch and Donghyuck was, of course, more than happy to be with his favourite cousins. 

“You begged me,” he declared, leaning so far forward his sunglasses slipped down his nose. He shoved them back into place without missing a beat, “Don’t rewrite history now. You were desperate, Jisung. Pathetic.”

Jisung groaned, throwing a napkin at his head, “You deleted my project file a day before submission!”

“It’s helping if it makes you stronger,” Donghyuck fired back, chin tilted, smug grin sharp enough to cut glass, “Character development. You’re welcome.”

Beomgyu laughed so violently he almost spilled his lemonade, and Donghyuck raised his glass to toast him, basking in the triumph of being both right and entertaining. 

And then, without warning, he felt it, a shift, like the sun bending differently. Eyes.

He turned his head slightly, casual, and there he was. Mark. Standing just past the hedge, slower than the rest of the arrivals, sunglasses in hand..

Looking at him.

The corner of Donghyuck’s mouth curled instantly, before he could stop it. He didn’t give Mark the satisfaction of staring back too long, just a small, sharp smirk like he had caught him in the act. 

Then he turned away again, throwing himself back into the argument, voice raised louder, “See, Beomgyu gets it! At least one of you appreciates my genius.”

Jisung shoved him in the shoulder, Beomgyu nearly fell over laughing, and Donghyuck let it all wash over him. But somewhere under the sound of it, under the sun and the water and the noise, he felt Mark’s gaze still lingering.

And maybe he liked it.

The afternoon had slipped into that golden, buzzing kind of heat that made everything shimmer. But despite all of that, the real entertainment came from Jisung and Beomgyu, who seemed determined to turn the day into a warzone.

“Play my playlist!” Beomgyu yelled, holding his phone aloft like a sword.

“Your playlist sucks!” Jisung shouted back, his voice cracking halfway, which only made Beomgyu cackle louder.

Before Donghyuck could even intervene, Beomgyu shoved Jisung into the shallow end with one swift, merciless push. Jisung went under with a flailing yelp, sending up a splash so massive it drenched Donghyuck where he sat.

Water slapped across his shirt, cold against the heat, but he didn’t even flinch. He adjusted his sunglasses with theatrical calm, leaned back further on his chair, and sighed. “Pathetic,” he declared, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Absolutely disgraceful behavior. I’ll have to talk to grandma and ask her to reconsider giving you guys a share of the inheritance.”

Jisung resurfaced with wet hair plastered to his forehead, glaring at Beomgyu, “You’re dead.”

“You would have to catch me first,” Beomgyu taunted, already half-scampering toward the far end of the pool.

“You guys are still children,” Donghyuck said, clicking his tongue, voice dripping with mock superiority, “You can’t even conduct yourselves with an ounce of dignity in front of our guests.” He let the word linger, honey-sweet, knowing exactly which guest he meant.

Because Mark was there. He had sat down on a chair at a distance now, and was scrolling on his phone, but Donghyuck felt his attention.

Every time his voice got louder, Mark’s head tilted slightly, like he couldn’t help it. Every time Donghyuck’s hands moved, flicking his sunglasses down, leaning on the chair’s armrest, pointing a lazy finger in mock judgment, he swore Mark’s eyes tracked the motion before sliding away.

It was subtle, so subtle most people would’ve missed it. But Donghyuck wasn’t most people. He thrived on being watched. He knew when attention lingered, when it clung longer than it should, when it pressed like warmth against his skin. And right now, Mark’s gaze felt exactly like that, not scorching, not blatant, but a steady heat that refused to dissipate.

So Donghyuck decided to give him something worth staring at.

With a dramatic sigh, he peeled his damp shirt off his torso in one slow motion, like the water had made the fabric unbearable. The linen clung stubbornly before sliding away, leaving his skin bare to the sunlight. He tossed it across his lounge chair with a flick of his wrist, then stretched. Long arms reaching over his head, back arching slightly as if loosening imaginary knots.

He didn’t glance toward Mark. He didn’t need to. The smirk was already tugging at his lips.

A shriek of laughter cut the air when Jisung scrambled out of the pool, soaked and furious, lunging at Beomgyu who had doubled over with glee, “I’m actually gonna kill you!”

“Try me!” Beomgyu gasped between laughs, darting just out of reach.

Their chaos spilled into another round of shoving, which ended in both of them tumbling into the deep end with an echoing splash. Donghyuck didn’t even pretend to help. He simply reached for the drink someone had left near him and sipped like a king.

“Do you ever plan to intervene?” Jisung demanded after surfacing, eyes narrowed in mock betrayal.

Donghyuck purred, settling the glass back down, “My role in life is to observe, not to save. I am far too delicate for poolside brawls.”

“Delicate?!” Beomgyu hollered, half-choking on laughter as he clung to the edge.

“Delicate,” Donghyuck repeated firmly, running a hand through his wet hair so it fell in damp waves across his forehead. He could feel droplets trailing down his neck, catching on the curve of his collarbone, sliding lower. He didn’t bother wiping them away. Instead, he leaned back again, sunglasses hiding the fact that his gaze had strayed, not to the pool, but to the shaded chair under the awning.

Because Mark was still watching.

Not openly. But Donghyuck had been in enough rooms, and had been adored by enough people to recognize it. And oh, that made something spark hot and restless in his chest.

He tilted his head, let the sunlight catch his skin, and smirked at no one in particular. When he finally dropped his sunglasses lower, letting his eyes peek over the rim, he caught it, the faintest flicker of eye contact with Mark. Just a beat, no longer. But enough.

Donghyuck’s smirk curved sharper, private, like the beginning of a dare.

Then he turned away, launching a lazy insult at Jisung for swimming like a drowning dog, which sparked another round of yelling. Beomgyu immediately sided with him just to make Jisung shriek louder, and soon all three were tangled in a splash war that sent arcs of water flying across the deck.

Donghyuck gave himself over to the noise, laughing so hard his stomach hurt, water droplets glittering across his shoulders. But underneath it, the awareness never faded. Even in the chaos, he felt that steady gaze lingering.

And he liked it.

Liked it enough that when he finally collapsed onto the lounge chair again, chest heaving from laughter, he let his eyes wander back to the shaded corner. Mark’s face was unreadable, calm as ever, but Donghyuck swore he caught the barest twitch of a smile before he looked away.

Because what fun was being watched if he didn’t play with it?

It was ridiculous how aware he had become of him. Even in the middle of Jisung and Beomgyu’s antics, even with staff carrying trays of fruit, even with his phone buzzing on the table beside him, his focus kept circling back, orbiting that one shaded corner.

Mark hadn’t moved much. He sat almost exactly as before, calm, composed, an island of quiet amidst the noise. But it was that very composure that made Donghyuck restless. Who came to a poolside party and looked like he was auditing it instead of living it?

Donghyuck decided that wasn’t acceptable.

He slid his sunglasses fully into place, pushed himself up, and without warning launched into a smooth dive off the deck. The water swallowed him whole, cool against overheated skin, bubbles rushing past his ears. For a moment he let himself sink, suspended in that muffled blue world, then kicked upward, bursting back into sunlight with a practiced shake of his hair.

He ran both hands through his hair, slicking it back in one slow, unhurried motion.

And when he surfaced enough to glance across the pool, oh, there it was. Mark was watching. His head had tilted just slightly, chin propped on his hand, eyes following Donghyuck as he moved through the water.

Donghyuck felt the satisfaction curl in his chest like smoke.

He could have left it there, and could have enjoyed the knowledge in silence. But he was Donghyuck and silence wasn’t in his nature.

So he waded lazily toward the edge nearest Mark’s chair, arms resting against the slick tile as he leaned his chin atop them. From that angle, he was half-submerged, water lapping at his collarbones, droplets rolling down every line of his chest.

“Why aren’t you in here?” he called up, his voice carrying, smooth as the water around him.

Mark’s lips twitched, the barest ghost of amusement, “I’m good here.”

“You’re boring there,” Donghyuck shot back immediately.

“I’m not bored,” Mark said evenly, his voice carrying but not rising. Still, he caught the slight edge of defensiveness, and it made his grin sharpen.

“Then prove it,” Donghyuck challenged, tilting his head, the words dripping with mischief, “Come down here. Swim a little. Have fun.”

Mark only shook his head, smiling faintly, but didn’t budge. That calm, frustrating composure again. Donghyuck narrowed his eyes. If Mark wasn’t going to play willingly, he would drag him in himself.

So he pulled himself out of the pool in one smooth lift, water sheeting down his body as he swung a leg over the edge and rose to his feet. The sun hit him immediately, heat rushing over damp skin, and he took his time wringing the water from his hair before padding across the deck. Each step left wet footprints behind him, a trail leading straight toward the shaded corner.

He didn’t go all the way, not yet. Instead, he veered toward the small table beside Mark’s chair, where a bowl of fruit had been set out. Without asking, without even looking at him, Donghyuck plucked a slice of watermelon, bit into it, and let the juice drip down the corner of his mouth.

The sweetness exploded across his tongue, cool against the heat still burning from the swim. He licked a droplet away with the tip of his tongue, then hummed appreciatively, loud enough for the sound to carry.

“Best part of summer,” he said to no one in particular, still not looking at Mark. “Cold fruit, hot sun, and..” His eyes slid sideways at last, locking onto Mark’s,“Company.”

Mark didn’t flinch, didn’t look away, but his lips pressed together like he was holding something back. That composure again. But now Donghyuck could see the faintest crack in it.

Donghyuck rolled his eyes, but his smile lingered. He flicked his gaze back to Mark one last time before wandering away, brushing close enough that his damp arm nearly grazed Mark’s shoulder.

And he felt it, the faintest shift and inhale, like Mark had noticed more than he wanted to admit.

Oh, this was going to be fun.

Donghyuck sprawled on another lounge chair a few seats down, tossing his sunglasses back on and stretching out like a cat in sunlight. To anyone else, he looked perfectly at ease, lost in the noise of cousins and music. But underneath, his focus hummed like a live wire. Because he had seen it now. That stare that had lasted a second too long.

And Donghyuck wasn’t about to let it go. Not when he had the rest of the afternoon to play.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ✈️ɞ˚‧｡⋆

[ track four: needed me ]

Donghyuck padded down the wide staircase, still in his loose shirt and sweats, hair only half-dry from his shower. He hadn’t expected company this early in the day.

But there Mark was, standing near the entryway with Jeno. His posture was neat as always, a clean navy blue shirt and beige pants, shoulders squared. Donghyuck hated how sharp it made him look at eleven a.m. It was too much for his sanity.

“You’re here again,” Donghyuck said, leaning against the stairway. He let his voice come out lazy, biting down on a smirk as Mark turned his head up toward him. 

“Good morning,” Mark said simply.

Jeno walked in the lobby, his phone buzzing constantly in his hand. “Hyuck, you’re awake. Good. Listen, a client just dropped a meeting on me, last minute. I’ve got to head out right now.”

Donghyuck’s brows rose, “So?”

“So,” Jeno continued, running a hand through his hair, “Mark and I were supposed to meet with the wedding planner today, review the gift bags, sort the lists. I can’t make it.”

“Then reschedule,” Donghyuck said flatly, already turning toward the kitchen in search of some food. He didn’t even get two steps before Jeno called him back.

“No rescheduling. Mark’s already here.”

That got Donghyuck to pause. He looked between his brother and Mark, who was standing too straight, like this was no big deal, “And what exactly does that have to do with me?”

Jeno gave him a look, “You’ll go with him.”

Donghyuck barked out a laugh, “You’re joking.”

“I’m serious.” Jeno pocketed his phone, his tone leaving no room for argument, “You’ve got free time, you know the family taste, and honestly, Hyuck, I trust you to veto anything stupid. I would have asked Leean but she is at school, so please, go. Help him. I’ll catch up later.”

Mark finally spoke up, his voice cautious, “I can manage alone if it’s too much trouble. Really.”

Donghyuck whipped his head toward him, “Oh, he can manage alone,” Donghyuck repeated, mock-pleasant, “So noble. See, Jeno? You’re off the hook.”

“Hyuck,” Jeno said warningly.

Donghyuck threw his hands up, “Fine, fine. I’ll babysit your fiancé. But if he comes home traumatized, that’s on you.”

Mark’s mouth twitched, and Donghyuck couldn’t tell if it was irritation or amusement. Maybe both.

Jeno didn’t wait for more back-and-forth. He grabbed his keys, kissed his mother’s cheek as she appeared from the hallway, and was out the door in less than a minute, leaving an echoing silence behind. Donghyuck turned back toward Mark, who was adjusting his watch like the entire exchange hadn’t just happened.

“So,” Donghyuck said, drawing the word out as he padded closer, “Looks like it’s just you and me.”

Mark glanced up, steady. “Looks like it.”

There was no flicker, no stammer. Which, of course, only made Donghyuck’s urge to throw him off balance grow stronger. He smirked, tilting his head.

“You sure you can handle a few hours with me, Mark Lee? I hear I’m impossible.”

“I’ve heard,” Mark said, and there was the faintest spark in his eyes now, “Guess I’ll find out.”

Donghyuck studied him for a second too long before breaking into a grin, “Bold words. Let’s see if you survive the car ride first.”

And with that, he grabbed his keys off the counter and breezed past, not waiting to see if Mark followed. He knew he would. 

Donghyuck slid into the passenger seat with a grin that was far too wide for someone who had just been tossed into a seemingly “boring” errand. Mark was already behind the wheel, fingers gripping the leather tightly, eyes forward, posture perfect, radiating that unshakable composure he always carried.

Donghyuck’s first impulse was to tease.

“Nice car,” he said casually, leaning back, letting his arm drape along the door, “Too clean, though. I like things with a little chaos.”

Mark didn’t look at him, “It’s functional.”

“Functional?” Donghyuck repeated, turning slightly so he could watch Mark’s profile, “Come on. That’s boring. Life’s short for being functional.”

Mark’s fingers tightened on the wheel, “Life is short for taking risks.”

Donghyuck smirked. Oh, this was going to be fun.

He reached over and flicked the air vent toward himself, just a touch of movement that was enough to make Mark glance at him. A little quick but it was there. His pulse spiked slightly at that tiny acknowledgment.

“So you’re the type who drinks coffee without spilling a drop, don’t go out after it is ten at night and never do anything without making a pro and con list?” he asked, tilting his head, eyes gleaming with mischief, “Sounds exhausting.”

“It keeps me alive,” Mark said evenly, but the corner of his mouth twitched. That flicker made his chest warm.

“Alive, sure. But not having fun,” Donghyuck teased, leaning a little closer under the pretense of adjusting the temperature knob. His arm brushed lightly against Mark’s forearm. He didn’t retract. He wanted Mark to notice.

Mark’s hand twitched. Not off the wheel, just enough to betray attention. Donghyuck’s smirk deepened.

“You’re too controlled,” Donghyuck said, half to himself, half to Mark, “I can already tell.”

Mark’s eyes flicked to him, “And you’re too what? Chaotic?”

“Impulsive,” Donghyuck said, dropping the word like a challenge, “Reckless. The exact opposite of you.”

Mark’s jaw flexed, gripping the wheel tighter, “I don’t like recklessness.”

“Really?” Donghyuck leaned back, letting his knee bump slightly against the center console. “Because I could show you a few ways to enjoy it.”

Mark’s throat made a slight, almost inaudible shift. He didn’t look at him, but Donghyuck noticed every detail, the way his grip tightened on the wheel, the subtle hitch in his breathing.

“Is this why you like my brother? He has the same morales as you,” Donghyuck muttered.

Mark’s lips quirked, “Something like that.”

Donghyuck chuckled, letting it roll against the car’s interior. The sound was low, teasing, lingering, “That is a little plain..”

“It has its benefits,” Mark said, finally letting his gaze drift toward him, just a fraction longer than necessary.

“Benefits are boring,” Donghyuck said, leaning just a touch closer as if to examine the texture of the leather seat, but really just to let Mark feel the proximity. Close enough for heat to brush the edges of his arm, close enough for the faintest scent of his cologne to hit him.

Mark blinked slowly, looking away, but Donghyuck caught the way his chest rose and fell.

“You think I’m annoying, don’t you?” he said, grinning, letting his hand rest casually on the console near Mark’s, “I hear that a lot.”

Mark didn’t answer immediately, just focused on the road, jaw tight. But the silence between them wasn’t empty. It was thick, vibrating with tension, like the space itself knew they shouldn’t be this close.

Donghyuck leaned back, smirk spreading, “You’re funnier than you want to admit.”

“I’m not trying to be funny,” Mark said quietly.

“But you are,” he replied, voice teasing, dipping just low enough to be intimate, “And you don’t even know it.”

The car rolled past palm-lined streets, the sun bouncing off glass façades. Donghyuck watched Mark’s hands flex on the wheel, the sharp lines of his forearms, the subtle tilt of his neck. He let himself take in the view, every curve, every tiny detail.

Mark caught him looking. 

“So,” Donghyuck said, shifting slightly, “What’s the most fun thing you’ve ever done, Mark Lee?”

Mark didn’t answer at first. Just kept his eyes on the road, jaw set.

“I’m asking because,” Donghyuck said, leaning a fraction closer so their arms nearly brushed again, “I might be able to help you top it.”

Mark’s hand twitched again. “You’re incorrigible,” he said, low, voice tight.

“And you’re curious,” Donghyuck replied, letting the smirk deepen, “Don’t pretend you aren’t.”

A pause. Mark’s lips pressed together, jaw flexing. His eyes flicked to him , then back to the road. Heat pooled in Donghyuck's stomach. He let his knee brush just a touch against the console, not enough to be dangerous, just enough. Mark’s eyes widened ever so slightly.

“Careful,” Mark said quietly.

“I am,” Donghyuck said, voice playful but underlined with intention, “Very careful.”

But the tension was electric, crackling between them. Every glance, every brush of skin, every word was layered with something unspoken, something dangerous, something neither of them should feel, but couldn’t stop noticing.

By the time they pulled into the parking lot of the planner’s office, Donghyuck had successfully unraveled all of Mark’s calm, leaving him gripping the wheel a little too tightly, jaw tight, and eyes flicking up to him more often than he would like to admit.

Mark’s hand tightened briefly on the door handle.The automatic doors slid open, letting in a rush of warm air and the faint scent of polished wood and fresh flowers. Donghyuck stepped in first, letting his gaze wander over the crisp, minimalist interior of the planner’s studio. Tables lined with gift bag samples, stacks of ribbons and cards meticulously organized by color and theme, and the faint hum of classical music in the background.

A middle-aged planner with a perfectly tailored dress approached, clipboard in hand. “Hello, Mark, Donghyuck. Welcome. I heard Jeno had an urgent meeting, express my greetings to him too. If you’re ready, we can go over the gift bags now.”

The planner laid out the first set, muted tones, pastel ribbons, minimalist fonts. Each bag looked like it had been designed to make someone nod politely and forget about it instantly. Donghyuck picked one up, weighing it in his hand, and made a face.

“This is sad,” he said, loud enough for Mark to hear, “Who wants a gray candle with a tiny beige bow?”

Mark’s hands folded over his chest, posture flawless. “It’s elegant. Classic and refined.”

“Refined is code for boring as hell,” Donghyuck said, tossing the bag back onto the table. He leaned closer, so his knee brushed against Mark’s chair. Just an accident, of course. But Mark’s eyes flicked downward.

“That’s subjective,” Mark said evenly.

“I think you’re scared of color,” Donghyuck teased, picking up a bright ribbon and flicking it in Mark’s direction. “Mark Lee, you need some fun in your life. Something reckless. Something loud. You’re going to drown in all this beige if you keep living like this.”

Mark’s jaw flexed, but he didn’t reach for the ribbon or brush it away. Instead, his gaze lingered a moment longer than usual, and Donghyuck felt a thrill.

They moved on to the next table, and Donghyuck didn’t let up. He pointed out options that made Mark frown. He picked up tiny candies and keychains with glitter, holding them close to Mark. “See? This is what I’m talking about. Life isn’t about monotone envelopes and quiet bows. Sometimes you need chaos, Mark Lee.”

Mark didn’t argue, not really. He just watched. And the longer Donghyuck talked, leaned, gestured, the more he realized Mark’s calm was cracking, just slightly. His breath caught every time Donghyuck’s knee bumped against his leg while pointing at a sample. Every time Donghyuck reached for the same ribbon and their hands brushed, Mark’s grip tightened.

“You’re impossible,” Mark said finally, a low murmur that somehow didn’t reach anyone else.

“And you’re stubborn,” Donghyuck shot back, leaning closer under the pretense of showing him a bright pink ribbon. His shoulder pressed against Mark’s arm lightly, “But I like that about you.”

Mark’s fingers twitched. He didn’t speak, but the small exhale, the way his shoulders shifted closer, told Donghyuck enough.

The planner, oblivious to the silent war unfolding beside her, stepped away to take a call. Donghyuck seized the moment, spinning a tiny bag in his hands, “See this? Who in their right mind thinks a single pale blue bag with a white bow is going to excite anyone? Not me. You would fall asleep in front of it, Mark.”

Mark’s lips parted slightly, and Donghyuck caught the faintest twitch in his jaw. The man was reacting, even though he tried not to.

“I don’t see what’s wrong with elegance,” Mark said, voice steady but softer than before.

“Elegance is boring if you have no fire underneath it,” Donghyuck said, letting his hand trail along the edge of the table closer to Mark’s. He wasn’t touching him yet. Just close enough for Mark to feel the heat radiating from his arm, “And you, my perfectly poised friend, need some fire.”

Mark’s eyes flicked down to where Donghyuck’s arm hovered near his, then back up. He swallowed, just slightly, and shifted, almost imperceptibly closer. Donghyuck smiled inwardly. 

He plucked a ribbon, flicking it lightly against Mark’s chest. “There,” he said, playful. “See what I mean? You can’t even pretend it doesn’t get your attention.”

Mark’s jaw flexed, and Donghyuck caught the tiniest exhale, the faintest hitch. That was all he needed. He let a teasing smirk spread across his face, “Don’t worry, I won’t hold it against you. I like a man who admits his mistakes.”

Mark didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. The subtle tension, the brush of air between them, the unspoken acknowledgment was enough.

Donghyuck picked up another sample, tossing it lightly onto Mark’s side of the table. “Okay, real talk,” he said, leaning forward so their knees brushed, “All this beige, muted, quiet, you would die in a world like this, Mark Lee. You need something exciting. Someone to mess with you a little.”

Mark’s gaze lingered on him, sharp, conflicted, and Donghyuck felt a thrill run straight down to his stomach. He leaned back slightly, smirk curling, enjoying the way Mark’s calm facade wavered just enough for him to notice.

“Fun,” Donghyuck said, almost softly now, letting the word hang between them, “You need some fun. And I can teach you how to have it.”

Mark’s jaw flexed again, lips pressing into a thin line, and Donghyuck thought that Mark knew exactly what he was doing.

And he couldn’t wait to push a little further.

Donghyuck leaned against the edge of the table, arms crossed, watching Mark meticulously inspect the last row of gift bags. The pastel ribbons, muted blues and blush pinks, all screamed boring to him. Every time Mark picked one up, weighed it in his hand, and nodded politely, Donghyuck felt a little thrill of rebellion rise in him. 

“You’re kidding, right?” Donghyuck asked, “This is what you call exciting? This? A baby’s baptism might be more thrilling.”

Mark didn’t flinch, “It’s graceful.”

“Graceful?” Donghyuck echoed, voice rising just slightly, “It’s like eating plain toast with no butter and calling it a delicacy. You’re telling me you’re okay with this bland existence?”

“You can’t just throw glitter at everything and call it a day,” Mark said, exasperation creeping into his calm voice.

“Why not?” Donghyuck leaned forward, elbows resting on the table, letting their knees brush lightly. 

Mark’s jaw flexed again, but he didn’t argue. His eyes softened ever so slightly, and that gave Donghyuck the boost he needed. He leaned even closer, shoulder brushing Mark’s arm under the guise of picking up another ribbon. The heat radiating off him was, subtle, just enough to make Mark shift in his seat.

“You’re impossible,” Mark muttered, voice low, not really scolding.

“Maybe,” Donghyuck said lightly.

At that moment, the planner walked back in, clipboard in hand, glancing between them. “You have fifteen minutes,” she said, voice firm but polite, “Before my next client shows up. Decisions must be made.”

Donghyuck’s grin widened. This was his moment. He picked up the glitter bag again, holding it like a prize, and leaned toward Mark with a playful pout. “Please, hyung,” he said softly, voice low and teasing, letting the words roll between them like a challenge. “You know you want to pick something fun.”

Mark froze, the subtle twitch of his jaw betraying him. Donghyuck’s heart skipped. The way his words hung there, soft, teasing, impossible to ignore. it had an effect. A good effect. He could see the faintest flush rising in Mark’s neck, the way his eyes lingered for a moment too long on Donghyuck’s face.

“You’re really going to pout at me?” Mark asked, voice low, calm but taut.

Donghyuck tilted his head, letting the pout deepen just slightly, and the smirk didn’t leave his lips.“What? It’s persuasive,” he said, voice a touch breathy, letting the playful intimacy grow, “And I’ve always been very effective.”

Mark’s lips pressed together, a subtle exhale escaping. His hand brushed the table as if he were grounding himself. The way he looked at Donghyuck, ttight, controlled, slightly startled made a flush creep into Donghyuck’s chest. 

The planner cleared her throat, “Have you decided?”

Donghyuck lifted the glitter bag with exaggerated flair, holding it triumphantly, “I think we have a winner.”

Mark’s eyes flicked to him. “Fine, you win.”

Donghyuck’s grin spread. “I always do,” he said lightly, letting the words linger. There was a warmth in Mark’s gaze now, a fleeting softness that made his chest pound, and Donghyuck’s smirk deepened. 

He could feel the thrill of having gotten under Mark’s skin.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ✈️ɞ˚‧｡⋆

[ track five: confident ]

Donghyuck pulled up to the sprawling driveway of Mark’s mansion.

He took a deep breath, letting his eyes trace the property, fountains gurgling in synchronized rhythm, hedges sculpted like living statues, and marble paths that gleamed under the afternoon sun. He had been sent by the wedding planner to review some more samples and finalise the menu. Not an earth-shattering delivery, but enough to justify asking to see Mark. He pressed the doorbell, and a well-dressed servant appeared within seconds, bowing politely.

“Good afternoon, sir. How may I help you?”

“I’m here to deliver something to Mark Lee,” Donghyuck said, holding up the neatly wrapped sample, “Can I meet him?”

The househelp smiled, “Mr. Lee is currently on the basketball court, sir. If you wish, I can guide you there.”

Donghyuck blinked. “Basketball court?” His mind immediately jumped to absurd images of Mark in sneakers, shorts, and a jersey.

“Yes, sir,” the servant said politely, gesturing, “This way.”

Donghyuck followed, weaving past the mansion’s extravagant grounds, manicured lawns, fountains, and sculptures. Finally, they reached a gated area tucked behind a row of tall cypress trees. The heavy glass doors slid open to reveal a pristine indoor-outdoor basketball court bathed in sunlight.

And there he was.

Mark, in a sleeveless jersey and shorts, tossing the ball lightly, every movement fluid, controlled, and effortlessly athletic. The black undercut made his jawline sharper, and his long arms flexed with each dribble. He was perfect and dangerous. Hot enough to make Donghyuck’s pulse skip a beat.

Donghyuck froze for a second too long, caught staring, before forcing his gaze down. “I didn’t know you played basketball,” he said, attempting casual. “Or had the time for it.”

Mark smirked without missing a dribble, “Apparently I do. Can I help you with something?”

Donghyuck shook his head, trying to hide the tension rising in his chest. “No. I just didn’t expect to see you here like this. Thought you would be in a suit, signing contracts, or pretending to not be boring.”

“Boring? Me?” Mark asked, lifting one hand as if to point at him

Donghyuck tilted his head, letting the smirk grow, “Yes, you, Mr. Lee. All stiff and polite. And now this casual, sporty version? Not what I expected. And I don’t know if I like it or if I hate it.”

Mark chuckled, the sound low and warm, “I think you’ll survive.”

Donghyuck’s eyes flicked over him, taking in the long lines of his arms, the way his shoulders flexed as he dribbled, “You’re really showing off, huh? Trying to intimidate me?”

Mark raised an eyebrow, bouncing the ball once, letting it catch the light, “Maybe. Or maybe I’m just testing my audience. Seeing if they can handle it.”

“Audience?” Donghyuck repeated, stepping closer under the pretense of adjusting his bag. “Oh, I can handle it. Don’t underestimate me.”

Mark’s gaze sharpened, lips curling into a teasing smirk, “Is that a challenge?”

Donghyuck leaned on the railing at the edge of the court, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead. “Maybe,” he said lightly. “Maybe I like challenges”

Mark glanced up, eyes flicking over him, amused but controlled. “So, you’re impressed?”

Donghyuck tilted his head, grin spreading, “Impressed, yes. But mostly just curious.”

Mark’s smirk deepened, “Curious, huh?”

“Oh yeah,” Donghyuck said, letting the word hang, “Curious enough to watch. Maybe even participate. If you’re feeling generous.”

Mark paused, dribbling slower now, eyes glinting, “Are you asking for a challenge, Donghyuck?”

Donghyuck’s chest tightened at the casual use of his full name. “Maybe I am,” he said lightly, “Maybe I want to see how good you really are.”

The tension in the air stretched, charged, and playful. Their eyes locked, and for a moment, the sound of the bouncing ball, the sun, and the mansion faded into the background. The only thing Donghyuck noticed was Mark, the curve of his shoulders, the smirk, the way he held himself.

“Alright,” Mark said finally, dribbling toward him slowly. “Let’s see if you can keep up.”

Donghyuck felt heat spike in his chest. “Oh, I will,” he said, letting a grin spread.

Donghyuck bounced the ball once in his hands, pretending to stretch his fingers over the leather but really just trying to steady his racing pulse. He had no doubt that Mark Lee could easily make him look like an amateur, maybe even humiliate him, but the thought of standing this close to Mark, of watching the way his muscles flexed with every motion, made it impossible to care.

Mark tossed him a casual look, “Ready to lose?”

“Oh, please,” Donghyuck said, smirking, tossing the ball lightly in the air and catching it, “I’m about to teach you what losing feels like.”

The smirk on Mark’s lips deepened. “Big words for someone with such a bad posture,” he said, his tone teasing but low, almost intimate.

Donghyuck rolled his eyes, but the heat in his chest betrayed him, “Focus less on my posture, because you’re going to lose so bad.”

Mark laughed softly, a sound that made Donghyuck swallow hard, “Confident. I like that. But confidence won’t save you.”

“Maybe not,” Donghyuck admitted, stepping closer under the pretense of getting ready to dribble, “But curiosity will.”

Mark’s gaze flicked down at him, sharp, assessing, and Donghyuck felt the thrill of being seen in a way that made his stomach twist deliciously. Every inch of Mark’s body seemed designed to pull attention, from the lean lines of his arms to the curve of his shoulders, and the smirk that made Donghyuck want to throw the ball aside and just pull the other man closer.

“Curiosity kills the cat,” Mark said, stealing the ball, “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Donghyuck caught it, letting their fingers brush slightly in the process. His hand tingled at the contact, and he had to fight to keep his expression neutral. “Not bad,” he said, tossing the ball back, letting it graze Mark’s fingers again just for the reaction.

“Careful,” Mark said, a note of warning in his tone, though the corners of his mouth lifted, “That was barely a touch.”

Donghyuck’s smirk widened. “Barely a touch?” he echoed, stepping closer under the guise of positioning himself for defense, “You’re the one dribbling right up to me. I would say we’re already violating some kind of personal space rule.”

Mark raised an eyebrow, clearly amused, “Personal space rule? Sounds like someone needs a lesson in boundaries.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Donghyuck said lightly, letting the ball bounce off his fingertips toward Mark, “Maybe I like a little danger.”

Mark caught the ball smoothly, pivoted, and dribbled closer. “Danger?” His tone was low, teasing, almost sultry. 

Donghyuck’s stomach tightened. The proximity, the way Mark’s arms moved, the heat radiating from his body, it was electrifying. “You really think I’m scared of you?” he said, tossing the ball back with a little extra force, letting it just barely graze Mark’s chest.

Mark’s eyes darkened ever so slightly, a flicker that sent a shiver down Donghyuck’s spine. “Not scared,” he said, voice low. “Just intrigued.”

“Good,” Donghyuck said, letting a grin spread, “Because I’m very good at keeping people intrigued.”

They went back and forth like that, the ball moving between them as they stopped each other from throwing it in the basket. Donghyuck caught himself noticing things he shouldn’t be, the way Mark’s biceps flexed, the slight sheen of sweat on his forehead, the curve of his jaw when he concentrated. Every movement pulled him in deeper, and he had to bite his lip to stop from imagining more than just a basketball game.

“You know,” Donghyuck said during a pause, tossing the ball lightly into the air, “I didn’t realize you could actually move like this. I thought you would be all stiff in real life, too.”

Mark’s smirk curved just enough to make Donghyuck’s pulse spike, “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

Donghyuck shrugged, pretending to check his sneakers, though his gaze flicked to Mark’s every move, “Maybe. Maybe not. Depends on how much longer you keep showing off.”

Mark laughed softly, the kind of laugh that made Donghyuck’s stomach tighten. “Show off? I think you like it.”

“I might,” Donghyuck admitted, letting the word hang. The air between them pulsed with tension, playful and dangerous, each comment layered with something unspoken.

The game continued, but it wasn’t about basketball anymore. It was about the subtle brushes of hands during rebounds, the shared smiles when one of them made a mock mistake, the quiet thrill of proximity. Donghyuck felt the weight of Mark’s eyes on him with every step, and it made him bold in a way he didn’t expect.

“You know,” Donghyuck said, bouncing the ball, “This is definitely not what I imagined when I came here to deliver gift bags.”

Mark tilted his head, smirk widening. “Oh really? And what did you imagine?”

Donghyuck paused, letting his grin spread, letting the tension linger. “Anything but this,” He gestured vaguely to the court, Mark, the heat in the air between them. 

Donghyuck dribbled toward the basket, heart racing, not from exertion, but from the proximity of Mark behind him. Every bounce of the ball echoed in the court, but all he could focus on was the warmth radiating from Mark’s body so close to his own.

“Not so fast,” Mark said, stepping right behind him, fingers grazing Donghyuck’s waist as he moved to block him.

Donghyuck yelped softly, more from shock than pain, and Mark chuckled low, “Didn’t see that coming, did you?”

“Okay, that’s cheap,” Donghyuck protested, turning quickly to fake a shot. He jumped, releasing the ball toward the hoop, but Mark was already there, leaping effortlessly, intercepting the shot with a smooth swat that sent the ball clattering against the rim.

Donghyuck blinked, staring, “You’re impossible.”

Mark landed lightly, flexing, smirking wide, “Maybe. Or maybe you’re just not ready for me.”

“Not ready?” Donghyuck echoed, rolling his eyes while secretly feeling a delicious thrill run down his spine, “I’m more than ready. I just don’t like getting beaten by someone in a game who looks like a movie star while doing it.”

Mark laughed softly, stepping closer as he passed the ball back, “Movie star, huh? Careful, Donghyuck. Flattery might get you distracted.”

Donghyuck caught the ball, and his pulse surged. He could feel Mark behind him again, close enough to sense the faint scent of his cologne, to notice the warmth of his body against his own. The intentional, teasing closeness was driving him wild, but he refused to let it show.

“You know,” Donghyuck said, bouncing the ball lightly, “I could score if you weren’t standing like a statue behind me.”

“I am standing,” Mark said casually, “Don’t tell me it’s getting you flustered.”

Donghyuck tried to look nonchalant, but his grin betrayed him, “Flustered? I’m not flustered. I’m focused. Yeah, focused.”

He felt a shiver run down his spine. Every word, every movement, every glance from Mark made the world shrink down to just the two of them and the ball bouncing between them. He dribbled, feinted, and tried to shoot again, but Mark was always there, intercepting, blocking, teasing, making him stretch, pivot, and move in ways that were exhilarating and maddening at the same time.

“Damn it!” Donghyuck exclaimed after another blocked shot, tossing his hands up in mock frustration.

Mark froze for a second, catching the undertone, before his smirk deepened, “You’re lucky I’m playing fair,” he said softly, letting the ball roll toward him, but standing just a little too close.

He faked a shot again, Mark behind him, hands brushing accidentally, or not so accidentally, against his sides. The ball clattered against the rim, and Mark caught it, holding it just for a heartbeat too long, their bodies almost touching.

“Cheating,” Donghyuck said breathlessly, trying to keep the grin playful, “You’re cheating.”

“I call it making the game interesting,” Mark replied, voice low, teasing, dangerous, “And I don’t see you complaining.”

Donghyuck felt heat flare in his chest. “I’m not complaining,” he admitted. “I’m enjoying it.”

Mark’s eyes flicked to him, sharp, measuring, the smirk on his lips slowing just enough to give a glimpse of something more intimate. “Good.”

Donghyuck laughed, a little breathless, trying to shake off the sudden tension, but he couldn’t hide the shiver that ran down his spine. “Bring it on, Lee,” he said, tossing the ball back with just enough force to let Mark’s fingers brush against his once more. “I can handle anything you throw at me.”

Mark caught it, leaned closer, and the air between them vibrated with a charged electricity that made Donghyuck’s knees feel weak. The playful, competitive game had become a dangerous dance, filled with teasing touches, lingering glances, and unspoken possibilities. And Donghyuck couldn’t deny how much he wanted it to continue, wanted Mark to notice every reaction, every subtle shiver, every heartbeat that sped up under his gaze.

Donghyuck squared himself up for another shot, bouncing the ball lightly in his hands. He feigned confidence, but the heat pooling in his chest made it impossible to ignore how close Mark was, standing behind him, dribbling with that effortless grace.

“Try scoring this time,” Mark said casually, stepping slightly closer, letting his arm brush against Donghyuck’s.

Donghyuck scowled, trying not to notice. “I will score. Just watch.”

He jumped, releasing the ball toward the hoop, only for Mark to time it perfectly, leaping with a smooth arc to swat it cleanly out of the air. Donghyuck’s chest tightened, frustration and thrill battling together.

“Seriously? That’s cheating!” Donghyuck said, landing lightly and spinning toward Mark.

Mark smirked, ball in hand, and with a quick pivot and a fluid shot, he sank a perfect basket. The net swished, and he grinned at Donghyuck, “Not cheating. Just showing you how it’s done.”

Donghyuck groaned, brushing his hair from his face, “This is so not fair. You look impossible doing it.”

Mark’s smirk deepened, and he dribbled closer again, body brushing subtly against Donghyuck’s as he passed the ball. “Impossible is fun,” he said. “Don’t tell me you’re not enjoying yourself.”

Donghyuck’s pulse spiked. “I’m enjoying this,” he admitted, letting a grin curve his lips. “Just don’t get used to it.”

Mark laughed softly, and when he leaned closer to grab the ball, their shoulders collided. The ball rolled off to the side, and suddenly Donghyuck lost his balance, stumbling forward. Before he could catch himself, he fell on top of Mark, chest pressing against him, knees on either side of Mark’s waist.

Mark’s eyes widened as he registered the collision, a sharp intake of breath betraying him. Donghyuck’s pulse hammered in his ears. The heat radiating from Mark was undeniable, and the way their bodies pressed together made his heart race in a way he hadn’t expected.

Donghyuck’s chest pressed against Mark’s, the sudden contact stealing his breath. The warmth radiating from Mark was immediate and overwhelming, wrapping around him like a current he couldn’t control. His hands rested instinctively on Mark’s shoulders, feeling the taut muscle under his palms and the subtle pulse of life beneath his fingers. Every subtle shift of Mark’s body sent tiny shivers racing through him, and Donghyuck realized how dangerously aware he was of the nearness.

Mark’s gaze locked onto his, dark and sharp, and Donghyuck’s lips curved into a small, teasing smirk despite the flush heating his cheeks. The intensity in Mark’s eyes made him heart hammer harder, a cocktail of excitement and something more daring. 

He felt the subtle brush of Mark’s arms adjusting under his weight, deliberate or not, and every brush against him sent sparks shooting straight through his core. His breath hitched when Mark leaned just slightly, enough that their noses almost touched, and the faint scent of his cologne mixed with the heat of his skin, dizzying Donghyuck’s senses. 

He could feel the rise and fall of Mark’s chest against his own, the steady rhythm of him grounding yet simultaneously igniting something dangerous. His own heartbeat thundered in his ears, and the collision suddenly felt like the most natural, thrilling place he could be.

A low, almost inaudible hum escaped Mark, the only acknowledgment of the contact, and Donghyuck’s pulse spiked. He shifted slightly, leaning in, letting his lips hover just inches from Mark’s ear, feeling the warmth and the quiet intensity of the space between them. His breath mingled with Mark’s, teasing, dangerous, making the air around them thick and taut with unspoken anticipation.

“I should go,” Donghyuck said, finally pushing himself up slightly, hands brushing against Mark’s shoulders in the process.

Mark didn’t move his hands immediately, letting the tension linger, “Yeah, probably a good idea.”

Donghyuck grinned, heart still racing. “So much for a delivery,” he said lightly, letting his tone hint at amusement, teasing, and a touch of something more.

Mark watched him walk away, jaw tightening slightly, mind uncomfortably aware of how turned on he felt. 

The basketball, the game, the laughter, it all faded, leaving only the memory of Donghyuck pressed against him, the weight of him, and the electric tension that lingered in the air.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ✈️ɞ˚‧｡⋆

[ track six: hale dil ]

“You again?” Donghyuck groaned the second Mark stepped into the living room.

He didn’t even bother straightening from his dramatic sprawl on the couch, one leg slung over the armrest. In his hand, his phone was lit with some game he wasn’t really paying attention to.

Mark, on the other hand, looked classy as ever with a black leather jacket, white shirt and cargos, car keys in hand, expression calm and irritatingly composed. He glanced around once, nodded politely at Leean curled up on the opposite sofa with her earbuds in, then fixed his gaze on Donghyuck.

“I need you to come with me,” Mark said simply, as though he was ordering coffee.

Donghyuck made a face, “No hello? No how are you doing, Hyuck, looking radiant as ever? Just a straight up order? This is not your company boardroom.”

Mark placed his keys on the table, “We have to check out the reception venue. The planner booked the slot for this evening.”

Donghyuck’s phone fell to his chest with a thud as he groaned, “Reception venue? That random boring flower garden you guys booked? Why would I voluntarily leave my house for that?”

“Because your father dragged Jeno to golf with clients.” Mark tucked his hands into his pockets with rehearsed patience, “Yesterday, the planner met Jeno without me since I was working. Today, it’s my turn. And since Jeno’s busy-”

“And since Jeno’s busy,” Donghyuck interrupted, “You thought, hmm, whose day can I ruin today? Ah yes. Donghyuck.” He spread his arms wide as though Mark had just announced he had won a prize. “Congratulations, me.”

Mark tilted his head slightly, a second away from rolling his eyes, “Not exactly. Jeno specifically told me to take you along.”

“Why?” Donghyuck narrowed his eyes, suspicious, “I don’t do flowers and gardens. I kill plants. Literally, every cactus I have owned has died mysteriously.”

Mark’s lips twitched, like he wanted to smile but refused to give Donghyuck the satisfaction, “Because he says you two have the same taste. His words, not mine.”

For a beat, Donghyuck just stared at him. Then, with exaggerated slowness, he sat up, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, eyes glinting. “We do,” he said, voice soft but full of bite, before throwing in a wink like seasoning on top.

That earned him a silence that was heavier than he had expected. Mark didn’t blink away, didn’t look faintly amused the way he usually did when Donghyuck tried to rile him. And for a second Donghyuck regretted speaking at all, because there was suddenly too much in the air that wasn’t just banter.

Thankfully, Leean chose that exact moment to yank one earbud out and snort at whatever she had overheard. “Honestly, Jeno keeps delegating all the wedding stuff to you. Imagine he asks you to be the groom on the wedding day,” she laughed at her own joke, bright and unbothered.

The timing couldn’t have been worse.

Donghyuck froze. He felt the corner of his grin falter before he quickly plastered it back on. Across from him, Mark didn’t flinch but his eyes told a whole different story, and Donghyuck swore he felt the weight of it in his chest.

For one long, too-quiet second, they stared at each other. Just a beat too long for it to be nothing.

And then, in true Donghyuck fashion, he sprang into chaos. “Okay, nope. We’re not doing this.” He grabbed the nearest pillow and launched it at Leean’s face. “Comedy hour’s over. Stick to TikTok, clown.”

Leean squealed, muffled behind the pillow, before ripping it off and tossing it back, “You’re so annoying!”

“Leave me alone Leean, I have to go for an extremely hard task.”

Mark just raised an eyebrow, “I didn’t realize checking a venue counted as a hard task.”

“It does,” Donghyuck shot back, “Because it involves walking, and talking to strangers, and pretending I care about the angle of a napkin. Do you know how many things I could be doing instead?”

“Scrolling through memes on your phone doesn’t count.”

Leean cackled, falling sideways into the cushions. Donghyuck clutched the pillow tighter, glaring at both of them like a betrayed puppy, “Unbelievable. A coup in my own home.”

Mark’s mouth curved, just a little, but enough, “Get your shoes and come.”

The leather seats still smelled faintly new when Donghyuck flopped into the passenger side, legs stretched out too comfortably for someone who had been dragged into this against his will. He buckled himself in with an exaggerated sigh.

“So explain this to me again,” he began, turning towards Mark with a narrowed gaze. “Why do we need a reception in Korea when the actual wedding is happening in Italy? Like, what’s the point of dragging me across Seoul traffic when the main event is literally in Tuscany, with pasta and fountains and pretty architecture?”

Mark didn’t glance at him. “Because,” he said, smooth and patient, “We know a billion clients and business people here who can’t exactly hop on a flight to Italy and be at our wedding. If we don’t throw them a party in Korea, our fathers will never hear the end of it. This way, everyone gets included.”

Donghyuck let out a sharp laugh. “Wow. So it’s less about celebrating love and more about saving face. Very on brand.” He kicked the dashboard lightly, ignoring Mark’s tiny glare. “Fine, I get it. As long as there is no event being planned in the USA.”

That made Mark glance at him, finally. One eyebrow arched, cool as ever, “What’s your problem with the States? You live in the UK, Hyuck. You’re not exactly in a position to throw stones.”

“Oh, please,” Donghyuck drawled, the corners of his lips curling. “The UK is tasteful and intellectual. Rain-soaked, yes, but charming. The States? Over the top. Big portions, loud people, lots of flags and somehow the people there think ‘football’ means playing with your hands.”

Mark actually laughed at that, a low rumble from his chest that startled Donghyuck for a second before he masked it with a smirk, “You’ve clearly never watched a decent American game. And for the record, I went to Princeton. It isn’t exactly the poster child of loud and over the top.”

Donghyuck gasped, hand over his chest theatrically, “Ah, here we go. The Princeton pride. Tell me, does it come with a manual? ‘How to bring up the Ivy League in every conversation’? Because Oxford students don’t need to brag. Our reputation speaks for itself.”

“Stop acting like you don’t mention Oxford every three seconds. Food at Oxford this, weather at Oxford that,” Mark shot back, a grin tugging at his lips now.

Donghyuck scoffed loudly, leaning in closer across the console. “Excuse me? At least Oxford has history. Centuries of scholars, libraries older than the USA. Meanwhile Princeton’s claim to fame is what? Orange and black merch and alumni who think they’re philosophers because they took one seminar?”

Mark’s fingers tapped the wheel, his jaw tight but his eyes glinting with amusement,  “Princeton produced Nobel laureates. Oxford produced Harry Potter?”

Donghyuck chuckled, “Harry Potter has had more influence on the world, trust me.”

They quieted only when traffic slowed them, neon lights streaking across the windshield in the evening glow. Donghyuck sat back in his seat, still smirking like he had won the argument, though his gaze lingered on Mark’s profile longer than he meant it to. The way Mark’s hands rested on the wheel, steady, precise, was irritatingly attractive, and Donghyuck found himself looking away too late.

“Anyway,” Mark said after a beat, his voice more casual than before, “I wouldn’t survive in the UK. The weather alone would finish me.”

Donghyuck perked up, eyes narrowing, “Can’t handle a little rain?”

“I hate rain,” Mark admitted simply, almost carelessly, “Especially UK rain. It’s the worst kind, dull, endless, grey. I don’t get how you stand it.”

That earned him a scandalized gasp, “Shut up. Rain is beautiful.”

Mark gave him a side glance, “Beautiful? It’s wet. It ruins plans. It gets into your shoes, and suddenly you’re spending the day miserable and cold. How is that beautiful?”

Donghyuck turned in his seat fully now, facing him as though this were a debate to be won. “Rain is romantic, Mark. It makes people huddle under the same umbrella, share warmth, slow down for once in their busy capitalist lives. Rain is for people who know how to feel.”

For a moment, Mark didn’t reply. His grip on the wheel tightened just slightly, eyes fixed on the road, but the weight of Donghyuck’s words seemed to hang there, heavier than the traffic around them.

“You’re ridiculous,” Mark said finally, but his voice lacked its usual firmness.

Donghyuck leaned back, victorious, smirking at the road ahead, “And yet, you’re listening.”

He was still smirking, ready to needle Mark again about Princeton kids not knowing how to appreciate anything poetic, when Mark’s phone buzzed against the console. Without hesitation, he tapped his Bluetooth, his voice shifting in an instant.

The irritation came fast. He wasn’t sure why he was surprised. Mark Lee, who seemed like the kind of person to schedule even his bathroom breaks, couldn’t possibly let one measly drive pass by without taking a work call.

Donghyuck bit down on his tongue, arms folding tight across his chest. He hated that pinch of disappointment that caught in his throat. He didn’t even know why he felt like that. But then he slowly started to pay attention to Mark, who was giving out orders and talking about financial assets.

And God, did he sound hot.

It was stupid, really. He shouldn’t care how someone sounded on a business call. And he should definitely not find his future brother in law attractive to such an extent.

Donghyuck exhaled hard the second the car slowed, as if the sharp turn into the driveway had given him permission to eject every maddening thought from his head. Whatever that ride had been, whatever kind of stupid haze Mark’s phone call had pulled him into, it ended here. 

“Come on,” Mark’s voice cut in, softer now that he wasn’t barking orders into a phone. He tilted his head toward the narrow street ahead, the glow of lamps reflecting on the slick cobblestones, “You’ll like this place.”

Donghyuck rolled his eyes mostly to himself and followed, tucking his hands into his coat pockets. The air was damp, cool, filled with the mingled scents of food from the restaurants lining the street. They crossed the polished marble steps, the glass doors sliding open as if to welcome them into some grand illusion.

 The air was sharp with the late afternoon breeze, carrying the scent of freshly cut grass and roses. Before them stretched a wide garden framed with trimmed hedges, fountains glinting under the sun, and white canopies being assembled over neat rows of tables.

Donghyuck shoved his hands into his pockets, staring at the arches of climbing wisteria and the glimmer of fairy lights already half-strung between the trees. For a second, he hated how pretty it looked. “Great,” he muttered, more to himself than Mark. “Now I feel underdressed.”

Mark, already a few steps ahead, glanced back at him. The wind ruffled his hair slightly, and for a moment he looked less like a calculating groom-to-be and more like just another man trying to imagine his name written into this place. “It’s not even finished yet,” he said, his voice practical, like he was already tallying which corners needed adjusting.

Donghyuck lengthened his strides to catch up, half tempted to throw a pebble at Mark’s back just to grab his attention. Instead, he shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, letting the late afternoon light stretch golden across the grass. “So,” he said, dragging the word as if he had just thought of something deeply profound, “You’re going to have two weddings in two really cool venues. That’s a dream.”

Mark didn’t even look at him, just shook his head with that calm, steady way of his. “It’s not two weddings. One wedding, one reception. Very different things.”

“Mm,” Donghyuck hummed, feigning deep thought. “You keep saying that like it’s going to convince me. But to me, that still sounds like two separate days where you’re forced to smile and shake hands and listen to relatives you don’t like. I’d honestly rather die.”

Mark finally glanced sideways, and the corner of his mouth twitched like he was fighting a smile. “You exaggerate everything.”

“Yeah, well,” Donghyuck replied, kicking at the gravel. “At least I’m entertaining.” He gestured to the sprawling lawn, where a row of white chairs stood in neat formation facing a small stage draped in cream fabric. “So who’s the lucky guy that gets stuck talking on the mic there, thanking every aunt and uncle personally? Don’t tell me it’s me.”

“It’s not you. It will be Leean and I am yet to pick someone from my side,” Mark said simply.

“Oh good,” Donghyuck sighed dramatically, “Because I would rather throw myself in the fountain than stand still for three hours pretending to tell every relative that I absolutely remember them from the time they visited me when I was four.”

That earned him a big laugh. The sound startled Donghyuck enough that he didn’t quip back immediately. And for reasons he couldn’t explain, that made his stomach tighten.

They walked further along the path, passing a row of lanterns waiting to be strung up once the sun dipped. The workers moved briskly, carrying bundles of lilies and roses, while a planner in a headset barked instructions.

They slowed near the fountain, where the water sparkled under the sunlight, scattering light across the garden in ripples. A few workers were arranging petals on the surface, the kind of detail that seemed absurd to Donghyuck but probably looked perfect in photos. He leaned against the stone rim, watching the ripples, and then looked up at Mark, who was standing beside him with his arms loosely folded.

“So,” Donghyuck began, trying to sound casual, “Are you excited?”

Mark blinked, “For what?”

“The wedding, genius.” Donghyuck rolled his eyes but didn’t look away, “Or at least this circus of a reception. I can’t tell if you’re secretly thrilled or if this is just another boardroom meeting for you.”

Mark’s gaze shifted back to the water, and for a moment, he didn’t answer. His reflection shimmered faintly in the ripples, serious and composed.

“I guess,” Mark said finally, “I’m more focused on making sure nothing goes wrong. Excitement comes after. Maybe.”

Donghyuck tilted his head, “That’s the most Mark Lee answer you could possibly give.”

“Is that bad?”

“No,” Donghyuck admitted softly.. Then he straightened, pushing himself off the fountain with a grin to cover up the slip. “But still, you should try it sometime. You know, actually feeling things before they’re scheduled on your calendar.”

Mark huffed a laugh, shaking his head, “You never stop talking, do you?”

“Of course not,” Donghyuck said brightly. “One of us has to make this entertaining. You’re lucky you have me.”

They fell into another silent rhythm and just when Donghyuck was about to poke another joke, Mark spoke up again.

His tone wasn’t defensive, but measured, as though he had gone over this answer many times before. “Jeno and I.. We are not expecting some fairytale. No whirlwind romance, no sparks flying every second. But we think it’s good for us. We care about each other, we have mutual interests, we can laugh together, we can share problems. Sometimes, that’s all marriage really needs.”

Donghyuck blinked, caught off guard by the sudden honesty. He had expected Mark to brush it off. nstead, there it was, the simple, unadorned truth.

“That’s it?” Donghyuck asked after a moment, his voice lighter than he felt, “That’s the bar? Mutual interests and laughter?”

Mark finally turned to look at him, his expression unreadable, “Not everybody finds someone they’re passionately yearning for. That kind of story doesn’t happen for most people. And waiting for it forever, it can make you miserable.”

Donghyuck tilted his head, feeling something inside him bristle, “You sound like you have already given up. Like you have convinced yourself it’s not out there.”

Mark’s lips curved, not quite into a smile, but more of a patient acknowledgement, “Or maybe I just grew realistic. It’s not about giving up, Hyuck. It’s about seeing what’s actually in front of you and not wasting your life on a fantasy that may never come.”

Donghyuck leaned back slightly on the stone edge, folding his arms, “So what, people should just settle? Pick someone safe, someone who won’t surprise them, just because it’s easier?”

“I didn’t say easier,” Mark replied, finally shifting to meet his eyes properly, “I said better. Safer doesn’t mean worse. It means stable and reliable. It means not burning out in three months when the passion fizzles. It means building something that lasts.”

Donghyuck scoffed under his breath, “Building something that lasts, God, you make it sound like a business deal. Which I guess tracks, since you think about everything in terms of risks and returns.”

For a moment, Mark didn’t respond. The quiet between them stretched again, but this time it felt heavier. Then, softly, “Marriage is kind of a business deal. At least, partly. You’re tying your life to someone else’s. You’re making a contract that says, I’ll be there when it’s boring, when it’s hard, when the excitement runs out. Isn’t that the point? Not chasing fireworks, but knowing who’s still next to you when they’re gone.”

Donghyuck swallowed. Something about the calm way Mark spoke made it hard to dismiss him outright, but he hated how final it sounded, how neatly wrapped in reason.

“Did you ever even try?” Donghyuck asked, his voice breaking slightly sharper than he intended. “You know, looking for that kind of passion?”

Mark’s gaze lingered on him, steady in a way that made Donghyuck suddenly self-conscious. “Yeah,” Mark admitted. “At first, I thought I would. I thought that’s what life was supposed to be, finding someone who made everything feel different. But then it didn’t happen. And Jeno came along. Not what I imagined, not what I thought I wanted. But with him, I realized safety might be better than chasing something that might never come.”

Donghyuck’s lips parted, but the words stuck. Something about the way Mark said that made his chest tighten. He wanted to challenge him, to argue that settling for safety was giving up before the story even began. 

Instead, all he managed was a low murmur, barely audible, “But isn’t safety just another word for settling?”

Mark’s eyes flicked toward him again, and for a second, Donghyuck swore the air between them shifted, heavier, charged with something he couldn’t name.

“You call it settling,” Mark said finally, “I call it choosing. Choosing someone who shows up, every single day. Isn’t that worth more than waiting around for lightning to strike?”

Donghyuck let out a laugh, but it was thin, almost bitter, “Lightning is the whole point, though. What’s the use of building something if you never once felt the spark?”

Mark tilted his head slightly, the faintest crease appearing between his brows. “Because sparks don’t keep you warm.”

Donghyuck stared at him, fighting the urge to roll his eyes and the even stronger urge to ask how someone like Mark could say something so resigned with such certainty. He felt heat coil in his chest, not quite anger, not quite frustration, something more restless than both.

“You talk like you’ve got it all figured out,” Donghyuck muttered, “Like you’ve seen every version of love and decided yours is the right one. But maybe you just didn’t let yourself look hard enough. Maybe you were too busy making sense of everything to actually feel it.”

Mark didn’t answer immediately. His gaze had returned to the fountain, but there was a tension in his jaw now, a faint tightening that betrayed the calm mask he usually wore, “There is no point of this conversation. I am getting married to your brother in a month. Not every story needs fireworks to be real, alright?”

Donghyuck just sat there, listening to the fountain’s steady trickle, feeling the strange press of silence between them again. He thought about how different they were, and how, somehow, the difference made the space between them feel charged, alive.

Finally, he exhaled, “Yeah, you’re right.”

“Let’s just drop this conversation, hmm?” 

“Yeah,” Donghyuck responded, but he wasn’t sure if either of them were convinced. 

The fountain’s steady trickle filled the air, the sound oddly magnified in the quiet they had fallen into. The mini argument still hung between them, suspended like something unfinished, but neither seemed ready to pick it back up. Donghyuck sat with his arms folded, pretending to study the surface of the water, though his thoughts buzzed restlessly, darting between frustration, curiosity, and something he couldn’t quite name. 

The first drop fell sharp against Donghyuck’s wrist. 

He blinked, startled, then glanced up at the open sky. Gray clouds had thickened overhead without either of them noticing. Another drop landed, then another, quick and cold, dotting the stone edge of the fountain and darkening the earth. Mark shifted almost immediately, glancing toward the nearest exit.

Donghyuck cursed under his breath and instinctively began running toward the faint outline of the exit pavilion in the distance. “Of course. Of course this had to happen now,” he grumbled, already feeling his shirt cling against his skin.

“You manifested this,” Mark remarked, running quickly alongside Donghyuck, shoes splashing through puddles that were forming faster than seemed possible. 

The rain only got heavier and the garden, which had looked so spacious and inviting moments earlier, now felt like a trap. The exit was visible but maddeningly far, a white pavilion blurred by sheets of rain. They were soaked through, their hair plastered against their foreheads, water dripping from their collars and sleeves. The sound of their own breaths mixed with the storm, ragged from sprinting.

Donghyuck bent slightly, hands on his knees, letting out an exasperated laugh. “We’re not even close,” he gasped, water dripping from his lashes. He straightened, pushing wet hair out of his face. “This is ridiculous. You would think they would have at least built a halfway shelter or something.”

Mark stopped beside him, completely drenched. His shirt clung tightly to his torso, darkened several shades, and water streamed down his jawline. He tilted his head back briefly, staring at the relentless sky, before shaking his head. “We’re soaked already,” he said flatly, “We might as well have jumped in a lake.”

Donghyuck ran his hands through the wet strands again, sighing dramatically, “God, I look like a drowned puppy.”

Mark, against his usual restraint, actually let out a small laugh. 

“How dare you laugh at me?”

“I didn’t laugh at you.”

Donghyuck leaned in just slightly, close enough that water from his own hair dripped onto Mark’s already soaked shirt, “You think you’re so slick, but I heard it. You laughed at me. This is a monumental day, Mark Lee, and I will be recording it in my mental diary.”

Mark rolled his eyes, but the faint trace of a smile lingered, betraying him again. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you’re transparent,” Donghyuck shot back, grinning despite the rain dripping into his eyes. “Literally. I can see your shirt sticking to you. Did you not check the weather forecast before wearing white?”

Mark’s jaw tensed ever so slightly, but he didn’t move away. Instead, he looked at him for a moment longer than necessary, rain running down the sharp lines of his cheekbones, before glancing back at the endless garden around them, “Let’s just walk towards the exit, yeah?”

They started walking again, slower this time, water squelching with every step. The garden that had looked elegant earlier now seemed wild and chaotic. 

“Stop,” he said abruptly, grabbing Mark’s wrist.

Mark slowed instantly,  “What now?”

Donghyuck was already shaking his head, water flying from his hair. “This is pointless. Look at us. You look like a drenched textbook and I look like an angst movie actor. We’re soaked either way. Might as well enjoy it.”

Mark blinked at him, “Enjoy what?”

“This.” Donghyuck gestured wildly at the sheets of rain, the blurred greenery, the muddy path, “Come on, Mark.”

Mark stared at him as if he had spoken a foreign language. “You’re suggesting that we enjoy the rain?”

“Yes!” Donghyuck’s grin spread despite the water in his eyes. He tugged on Mark’s wrist more insistently, his wet fingers curling around his skin, “Anything except trudging forward like two soggy old men.”

Mark hesitated, his gaze lowering to the hand wrapped around his wrist. The warmth of Donghyuck’s grip was startling against the cold rain, grounding in a way that made something twist in his chest. He could have easily pulled away, in fact, he should have but he didn’t.

Instead, he muttered, “You’re ridiculous.”

Donghyuck’s grin only widened.

The challenge hung between them, heavier than the downpour. For a moment, Mark’s lips pressed into their familiar line, his body tense with that practiced restraint of his. But then, his shoulders eased. He shook his head, water flinging from his hair, and let out a low chuckle. “Fine. You win.”

Donghyuck’s jaw dropped, “Wait, really?”

“Don’t make me regret it.”

“God, this is monumental,” Donghyuck announced, raising their joined hands in triumph, “Mark Lee, the eternal stoic, has agreed to indulge me. Someone call the historians.”

Mark rolled his eyes but didn’t let go of his hand.

The rain pounded harder, sheets of water cascading around them, but for the first time, it didn’t feel suffocating. Donghyuck spun once dramatically, arms out, laughing at how ridiculous it all was. His soaked shirt plastered to his frame, his hair dripping into his eyes, but he didn’t care. He turned back to Mark, eyes gleaming despite the storm, “See? It’s not so bad when you stop fighting it.”

Mark stood there, still holding onto his hand, watching him with something unreadable in his gaze. His mouth curved slightly, as if against his better judgment, “You look insane.”

“And you,” Donghyuck countered, stepping closer, “Look like you’re trying very hard not to enjoy this.”

Mark’s silence was damning. He glanced away, toward the hazy outline of the pavilion, but his grip didn’t slacken. If anything, his fingers shifted almost unconsciously, tightening around Donghyuck’s.

Donghyuck noticed, of course he did. His chest warmed in a way the rain couldn’t touch. He tilted his head, smile softening. “You know, it wouldn’t kill you to admit you’re having fun.”

Mark met his eyes again, rain dripping from his lashes, and for the briefest moment, he let the mask slip, “Maybe I am.”

“Connect with nature, Mr. Lee. There’s more to life than finances and numbers and whatever stock market graphs you dream about at night.”

Mark almost laughed, though he tried to swallow it down. His voice came out flat, but his eyes betrayed the faint amusement, “That’s not what I dream about.”

“Really? Then what?” Donghyuck shot back instantly, lowering his arms and grinning at him.

Mark hesitated, biting down the urge to answer honestly, “Nothing you would find interesting.”

Donghyuck gasped, clutching his chest dramatically even as water streamed down his arm, “Excuse you. My interests are vast and noble. I’m the most interesting person you’ll ever meet.”

“You just want me to admit I dream about boring things.”

“You do!” Donghyuck insisted, “But that’s okay. That’s why I’m here, to make your boring existence bearable. Case in point,” he gestured at the downpour, at the way both of them stood soaked in the open garden, “You would never stop in the rain like this if I weren’t with you.”

Mark gave him a look, water dripping from his lashes, “That’s because normal people run for cover.”

“And look where that got us, halfway drenched and miserable.” Donghyuck smirked, stepping closer. “So maybe I’m right this time. Just let it happen.”

Mark exhaled slowly, long-suffering, but he didn’t move. His body remained planted, as if tethered by Donghyuck’s words, “This is ridiculous.”

“It’s therapeutic,” Donghyuck corrected, eyes bright despite the storm, “Trust me, I know about these things. You’ll thank me later.”

Mark tilted his head, unimpressed, “You’re insane.”

Donghyuck grinned, unbothered, “You need a little insanity in your life.”

For a moment, they both just stood in the rain, water pooling around their shoes, the sound of the storm roaring in their ears. Donghyuck closed his eyes and tilted his face up again, breathing it in as though the sky had poured down something other than cold water. Mark, against his better judgment, found himself watching him.

“You really like this?” Mark asked finally, almost a whisper.

Donghyuck opened his eyes and looked at him, a smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah. It’s like the world shuts up for a second. No texts, no deadlines, no people breathing down your neck. Just this. Doesn’t it feel kind of good? Like you’re a kid again?”

Mark let the words hang between them and shoved the thought down, “We’re going to get fevers.”

Donghyuck groaned, “You sound like an uncle.”

“I’m being realistic.”

“And I’m being alive,” Donghyuck shot back, “Big difference. Not everything has to be right, Mark. Sometimes it just has to feel good.”

Mark shifted his weight, still uneasy but strangely rooted in place, “You’re unbelievable.”

“Unbelievably charming,” Donghyuck corrected instantly, opening one eye to smirk at him, “And you’re smiling, by the way.”

Mark stiffened, quickly composing his expression, though he couldn’t erase the small curve at the corner of his mouth. “No, I’m not.”

“You are,” Donghyuck pointed at him triumphantly, “Caught in HD. The great Mark Lee, smiling in the rain. Historic moment. Someone commission a statue.”

Mark exhaled through his nose, but his shoulders relaxed, and the tiniest chuckle slipped out.

Donghyuck lit up at the sound, bouncing once on his heels, “See? Therapeutic. I told you.”

Mark shook his head, but the tension in him unraveled little by little. The rain didn’t feel as hostile anymore. It was still cold, still heavy, still uncomfortable, but there was something oddly liberating about standing there, no longer fighting it. Something in Mark’s chest pulled tight at the moment and he couldn’t explain the feeling in his chest.

Donghyuck laughed suddenly, stepping into a puddle, splashing water up at Mark’s leg, “Oops.”

Mark shot him a look, “Really mature.”

“Therapeutic,” Donghyuck insisted, grinning, “Come on, splash me back.”

“I’m not five.”

“Exactly. That’s your problem.”

The two of them stood there, soaked to the bone, laughter spilling out between spurts of teasing and silence. 

“You’re going to slip if you keep moving like that,” Mark finally said, his voice raised just enough to cut through the downpour. 

Donghyuck turned at once, water dripping down his cheeks. His grin stretched lazily, and he tipped his chin up with challenge, “So? You’ll catch me, right?”

The words were light, tossed out like a joke, but the second stretched strangely long between them. Mark’s expression didn’t change much, but when he spoke, the sound was quieter, lower, like it slipped past his defense, “Yeah. I will.”

Donghyuck froze. The rain still pelted down hard, the storm humming over every surface, but Mark’s voice slid beneath all of it, steady and certain. His heart clenched with something sharp, something both foolish and necessary, and he had to look away to keep from showing how much the answer mattered.

“Good,” Donghyuck said at last, forcing breeziness into his tone as he tossed wet hair out of his eyes, “Safety guaranteed. Ten out of ten customer service.”

Mark gave him a look. “Hyuck. They’re going to be waiting for us at home. Do you even realize how we must look? Completely soaked, wandering around like children who can’t follow directions, goodness.”

Donghyuck clicked his tongue and grinned wider, as if the scolding only fueled him, “Then let them wait. Think of the story! ‘Two brave young men risked hypothermia in the name of fun.’ We’ll be legends.”

“Or idiots,” Mark muttered.

“Legends,” Donghyuck insisted, poking his finger into Mark’s chest for emphasis, “History books, Mark. Textbook example of youthful spirit.”

Mark swatted his hand away with a groan but didn’t pull back, their proximity lingering longer than necessary. His hand slid through his wet hair again, but his other stayed at his side, fingers brushing against Donghyuck briefly before he stepped forward. “Let’s just go now.”

“Fine, fine,” Donghyuck relented, though his grin didn’t dim. He made a mock bow, “Lead the way, Lee.”

Mark walked ahead, steady but cautious on the slick grass, while Donghyuck trailed after, bouncing lightly on his heels despite the mud that sucked at their shoes. He tried to mimic Mark’s serious stride but exaggerated it until it looked comical, his arms swinging dramatically. He expected Mark to ignore it, but when Mark’s shoulders shook slightly, Donghyuck’s grin widened in victory.

“See? You’re not made of stone,” Donghyuck called, splashing in the nearest puddle so water sprayed up onto both their legs.

Mark turned just enough to throw him a glare over his shoulder, “Hyuck.”

“Mark,” he shot back with mock sweetness, then skipped forward a step, only to have his heel skid sharply against the soaked ground.

The world tilted in an instant. His arms flung out as his balance betrayed him, a startled shout tearing from his throat. For a heartbeat it felt inevitable, that graceless fall, that humiliating sprawl into the mud.

But Mark was already there.

His arm wrapped firm around Donghyuck’s waist, pulling him back. Their bodies collided, wet fabric slapping together, breath tangling in the narrow space between them. Mark’s grip tightened, while his other hand steadied Donghyuck’s shoulder.

The rain didn’t stop. It poured over them mercilessly, streaming across their faces, dripping from chins and lashes. But Donghyuck felt none of it at that moment. All he felt was Mark, close and steady.

For a second, neither of them spoke. The storm thundered around them, but there was a silence nestled in the narrow inches between their lips. Donghyuck could see the way Mark’s jaw clenched, the way his breath came heavy against his skin, the way his eyes flicked down before darting back up as though holding himself in check. 

Donghyuck’s laugh came late, unsteady, “Told you, you would catch me.”

Mark’s lips pressed into a line, but his grip didn’t loosen. His thumb brushed unconsciously against Donghyuck’s side, tracing over soaked fabric as though confirming he was really there, “Don’t push your luck.”

But the tremor in it betrayed him, and Donghyuck caught it and clung to it. Mark closed his eyes for a second, exhaling as though steadying himself. Then he eased Donghyuck upright fully, though his hand lingered on his waist longer than necessary before pulling away. The absence was immediate, like stepping out of warmth into a cold, and Donghyuck had to fight not to shiver from it.

“Come on,” Mark said, voice rough, “No more slipping.”

They began walking again, slower this time, Mark’s hand brushing his elbow as if to guide him over the slick patches. The venue stretched long before them, rain distorting the lights at the exit. The air smelled of wet grass, damp wood, and something heavy that neither could name.

Donghyuck tried to focus on the path, but his mind replayed that moment again and again, the way Mark had held him like letting go wasn’t an option. 

Mark’s words from before lingered too, that not every story needed fireworks. But as he walked beside Mark now, their shoulders brushing, their breaths puffing out in a shared rhythm, he knew better.

Because inside him, there was nothing quiet. There was only the steady flare of sparks that refused to fade, bursting bright.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ✈️ɞ˚‧｡⋆

[ track seven: dRuNk ]

Lights shimmered in jewel tones, shifting across mirrored walls and catching in the sequins of dresses and the gloss of glassware.

The bass thrummed low and steady, a heartbeat pulsing through the floor, while laughter and half-shouted greetings cut through the music. Friends and family were there, some already drunk and draped over the leather couches. The floors gleamed despite the spill of champagne and cocktails, the booths were lined in velvet that caught the light like liquid, and the bar stretched wide with every kind of liquor imaginable stacked neatly in tiers that glittered under golden lamps. Waiters weaved through the crowd carrying trays of cocktails decorated with edible flowers, little bursts of neon umbrellas, and slices of fruit.

Mark had seen enough clubs before, Princeton nights filled with champagne-soaked reunions, rooftop lounges in New York, but tonight wasn’t just another night out. 

This was the party that replaced a bachelor’s night of reckless debauchery. One celebration for everyone, blending Jeno and Mark’s groups of friends, family, and colleagues.

At the center of it all was Donghyuck.

He wasn’t trying to be the center. He didn’t stand on tables, didn’t shout to command attention. He simply existed, and that was enough to draw everything and everyone toward him. He leaned against a tall black cocktail table, elbow bent lazily, the whiskey glass dangling between his fingers. His wrist glimmered faintly under the strobe, the chain bracelet sliding with every casual movement. The jacket he wore, sporty, striped down the arms, hung loose and open over a plain white tee, but on him, it wasn’t plain at all. The fabric clung just right, hinting at his frame underneath, and the necklace layered at his throat flashed whenever he tilted his head. Even his hair caught the dim light.

He didn’t fidget, didn’t rush to fill the silences, didn’t chase conversation. He sipped, smirked, shifted his weight from one foot to the other as if he had all the time in the world, and it made everyone else want his attention more desperately. 

Every so often, he shifted his gaze toward the dance floor, and it was enough to send whispers through the group around him. A tilt of his chin, an arch of his brow, and suddenly, two people jumped up to prove themselves to him on the floor. He hadn’t even asked, they simply wanted him to notice. He watched, smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, then returned to his drink, as though they had already failed his unspoken challenge.

So while everyone had eyes on Donghyuck, Donghyuck was busy eyeing Mark.

His soon-to-be brother-in-law.

The irony wasn’t lost on him, he was standing in the middle of a crowded club, laughter ringing out around him, bodies pressed together in the dim wash of neon lights, and yet the only thing he could focus on was Mark Lee leaning casually against the wall like he had no business being that devastating.

Mark didn’t fit into the room the way everyone else did. Where most men had loosened their collars and let the haze of alcohol make their movements clumsy, Mark stood out like a sharp line drawn across the blurred edges of the night. He was wearing a black leather jacket that clung to his shoulders with an almost unfair kind of perfection, and beneath it a simple white tank that did little to hide the strength beneath. His jeans sat low on his hips, secured by a belt far too bright for his otherwise clean look, but on him even that little detail looked smart, like he was the type who could make contradictions work. His dark hair was slicked back, the faint dampness from the heat of the club making strands curl just slightly against his temples.

Donghyuck’s throat went dry, and he tipped the glass against his lips though he had already finished it. He knew better. He reminded himself with every beat of the bass that pulsed against his ribs that Mark was absolutely, completely off-limits. His brother’s fiancé. The man who was about to marry into his family. The one person he should never look at with the kind of hunger that was burning a hole in his chest. And yet every time Mark lifted his hand to rake it over his mouth, every time he shifted his weight like he was unaware of the way his body curved against the wall, Donghyuck felt the mistake deepen.

It was reckless, staring the way he was, and he knew that if anyone caught him, even if Mark caught him, he would be ruined. Not just embarrassed, but exposed in a way he couldn’t take back. But Donghyuck had never been good at pulling his eyes away from something beautiful, and Mark was beautiful with edges sharp enough to cut him open. His jawline, the curve of his throat when he tilted his head back slightly to listen to Jeno say something beside him, the careless way his fingers worried at his bottom lip as though he had no idea what it did to the people watching, Donghyuck wanted to memorize every detail.

He told himself it was just the lighting, the alcohol, the pulse of music loosening his senses. But when Mark’s gaze flicked up, just briefly, scanning the room like he was keeping tally of everyone present, Donghyuck felt the air still in his chest. For one impossible, terrifying second, he was sure Mark’s eyes had landed on him. And in that second, Donghyuck swore his entire body betrayed him, cheeks hot, pulse racing, his fingers tightening around the glass as though he could ground himself before anyone noticed just how undone he had become.

He ducked his head, pretending to adjust the chain at his throat, laughing at something a cousin shouted across the booth. But it didn’t matter. 

Then the music stopped and Jeno stood up. He smiled wide, a little flushed from the alcohol but still perfectly composed, and lifted his glass high above his head.

“First off,” he said, “Thank you. To all of you, for being here, for celebrating with us, for making this night what it is. Mark and I, we could have gone the typical route, done the bachelor parties and all that, but it felt right to just gather everyone we love together instead. Because that’s what matters most, doesn’t it? Having people you care about close by.” His eyes scanned the crowd, lingering on familiar faces, cousins, friends from university, people who had been in their lives long enough to feel like family. “We’re grateful. Genuinely. And I don’t think I could have pictured it any better.”

There was a little cheer then, a few whistles from the back where their cousins had clearly had more than a few shots too many, but mostly everyone just beamed at Jeno like he deserved every ounce of happiness he was pouring into the room.

Donghyuck clutched his drink, his lips quirking at the corners in something that could be mistaken for a smile. He knew Jeno too well, his older brother had always been the golden boy, never once stumbling on a word or looking out of place. Even here, surrounded by the chaos of too many bodies and too much alcohol, Jeno looked every inch the man who deserved to be adored.

And then Jeno gestured toward Mark. “But I am not the best man at giving speeches, so  I’ll let Mark talk for himself.”

Mark, leaning against the edge of the booth with that same quiet confidence that had made Donghyuck’s throat dry earlier, lifted his head. The crowd shifted, and Mark set his own glass down before straightening. There was nothing rehearsed about him, but there didn’t need to be. His voice was low, warm, the kind that slid into a room and rooted itself beneath the skin.

“Jeno already said most of it,” Mark began, rubbing the back of his neck almost sheepishly before letting his hand drop again, “But since I’ve got the mic now” He grinned faintly, earning a laugh from the crowd. “We met in college. Two kids who thought they had everything figured out and, honestly, didn’t have a clue. But somehow, we clicked. It wasn’t immediate fireworks or anything.” His eyes flicked briefly toward Jeno, softened, “But it was steady. Reliable. He became the person I could go to about anything. The kind of friend who doesn’t just hear you, but understands you.”

Jeno’s smile widened as Mark spoke, his eyes never leaving him. Mark went on, his voice dipping into something more thoughtful. “And when we talked about the future, about what we wanted our lives to look like, it just made sense. It wasn’t some big epiphany or lightning strike moment. It was simple. Easy. Like, why wouldn’t we choose each other, you know?”

The room melted into a collective sigh, a chorus of ‘awws’ and warm chuckles, the kind of reaction people saved for the purest declarations. Donghyuck, though, couldn’t stop the sharp snort that escaped him. He tipped his drink up immediately after, hoping it had been swallowed by the noise of the crowd, but the thought still rang bitter in his head.

What the hell did they know about love?

It was easy to talk about bonds and futures and steady choices when you were Jeno and Mark, two men who fit neatly into the world, who never seemed to trip on its edges. But Donghyuck, standing there with his heart pounding for all the wrong reasons, couldn’t help but think they were fools. He didn’t even know what an ounce of romantic love felt like, not the way people wrote about it, not the way songs made it sound. It was all smoke, wasn’t it? Fleeting, imagined, impossible to pin down.

Mark turned back toward Jeno then, and whatever cynical wall Donghyuck was trying to build crumbled the second their lips touched. It wasn’t even a dramatic kiss, not really, just Mark leaning in, Jeno meeting him halfway, their mouths pressing together for a few lingering seconds that still managed to feel unbearably intimate. The crowd erupted, applause, whistles, stomps against the floor. 

And Donghyuck felt his chest ache so sharply he had to grip the edge of the counter beside him. It wasn’t jealousy. At least, that’s what he told himself. It wasn’t that he wanted to be the one kissing Mark in front of everyone. It was just something about watching it clawed at him, a slow, twisting pain that he couldn’t name.

He turned abruptly, lifting his hand to signal the bartender. “Stronger,” he said, voice clipped when the man asked what he wanted. “Just, make it strong.”

The glass landed in front of him, condensation already trailing down its side, and he downed half of it in one go. It burned, but not enough. Around him, the air was alive with celebration, people hugging Jeno, clapping Mark on the back, shouting toasts across the room. It should have been infectious. He should have been caught up in the tide of joy like everyone else.

Instead, he found himself staring at Mark again, at the way his hand lingered at Jeno’s back even as he laughed with their friends. Donghyuck hated himself for it, but the thought struck him before he could push it away.

What if it were him?

The idea was poison, curling through his mind like smoke he couldn’t clear. 

What if it was him standing there, the one Mark had chosen, the one Mark leaned toward in front of everyone without hesitation? What if it was him who had been kissed with that kind of easy devotion?

It was horrible. Horrible. The kind of thought that should never even exist, let alone take root. Jeno was his brother. His blood. And Mark was family now, too, or about to be. Donghyuck should have been proud, should have been happy. But instead, all he felt was the weight of wanting what he could never, ever have.

His glass was empty before he even realized it. He shoved it toward the bartender again. “Another,” he muttered, his voice sharp enough to make the man hesitate only briefly before nodding.

As the second drink slid into his hand, Donghyuck swallowed it down as if it might smother the feeling, drowning it before it could resurface. He let the burn fill his chest where the ache had been, let it blur the edges of his thoughts. He focused on the sting of alcohol instead of the sight of Mark’s smile, on the way the lights shifted above them instead of the memory of their lips pressed together.

And yet, even as he forced his gaze anywhere else, the question refused to leave him. What if?

What if he had been in Jeno’s place?

Donghyuck threw the thought back into the depths of his mind with another swallow of liquor, but it clung stubbornly, haunting him beneath the roar of music and laughter that surged back through the club. No one noticed, no one suspected, why would they? He was just another body in the celebration, just another glass lifted in the air.

But deep inside, where no one could see, he knew he had crossed into dangerous territory. And no amount of alcohol would save him from it.

Three strong drinks had already burned their way down his throat, and he was reaching for a fourth when a hand landed lightly between his shoulder blades.

It wasn’t much, just a casual pat but it sent something sharp and electric racing down his spine. He stiffened, caught between the heat of the club and the warmth that lingered at the center of his back. Slowly, he turned, and there Mark was, close enough that Donghyuck could see the faint sheen of sweat along his temple from the heat of the room.

“How are you doing?” Mark asked in a way that felt like a private thread in the chaos.

Donghyuck forced his lips into something resembling a smile, lifting his glass like it was proof of life. “Good.” The word scraped out of his throat like gravel.

Mark studied him for a beat too long, “You don’t look good.”

“I don’t?” Donghyuck’s grin grew sharp, mocking. “That’s rude. You’re supposed to say I look stunning. Because I do. Look around, half the room has their eyes on me.”

That made Mark huff, the corner of his mouth twitching, “Confident tonight.”

“Confident every night,” Donghyuck shot back, throwing the last of his drink down his throat. He set the glass down hard enough for the sound to cut through the music. “What do you want?”

“Favor.” Mark leaned one elbow on the counter, casual as ever, “I need you to tell the club manager to check the fifth quadrant, near the lounge. It’s getting too crowded. Security’s thin there.”

Donghyuck raised an eyebrow, feigning offense, “So now you’re ordering me around?”

“Yeah.” Mark didn’t even blink, “You’re my soon-to-be brother-in-law. I have the right.”

That phrase hit like a knife disguised as a smile. Brother-in-law. The title he couldn’t escape, no matter how hard he wanted to rewrite it. Donghyuck forced a light laugh, but it tasted bitter on his tongue. “Right. Brother-in-law,” he echoed, the word sticking like gum at the roof of his mouth.

Mark nodded, slow, like he felt the weight of what he had said too. His gaze lingered, then he cleared his throat. “My brother couldn’t make it tonight, but he’ll be here by tomorrow noon. I feel like you’ll definitely vibe.”

Donghyuck blinked, trying to laugh but the sound broke, “You want to set me up with your brother?”

Mark chuckled, unbothered. “Yeah, that would be great, right?”

Donghyuck swallowed hard, forcing his throat to work. “Indeed,” he said flatly, like it was the only word he had left.

“Good.” Mark’s phone buzzed in his pocket, and he glanced toward the crowd where Jeno was waving him over, “I need to go now. Jeno wanted a picture.”

“Of course he did,” Donghyuck muttered, but Mark had already vanished into the crowd.

Left with only the echo of his words, Donghyuck signaled the bartender. “Another.” The drink arrived. He drained it. Then another. And another.

The fourth one made his skin flush. The fifth turned the lights into streaks of color, the laughter into a roar. Still, he waved the bartender down.

“You okay there, man?” the bartender asked carefully.

“I’m great,” Donghyuck said with a smile too wide to be real. “Don’t I look great?”

“You look like you’re working on it.”

“Exactly. Keep them coming.” The ache in Donghyuck’s chest was unbearable now. He slapped the counter, “Another!”

The bartender hesitated. “Are you sure?”

Donghyuck nodded firmly, “As sure as anyone can be about anything in this ridiculous life.”

The next glass arrived. He lifted it, staring at the liquid as the cheers around him swelled, Jeno and Mark embracing under the lights, their friends clapping, cousins laughing. Donghyuck tipped the drink back in one go, burning his throat until his eyes watered.

His hand trembled as he set the glass down. He told himself it was from the alcohol, not the thought that had wormed its way into his skull. The thought of standing where Jeno was and being kissed like that. By Mark.

It was horrible. A horrible, horrible thought.

So he ordered another drink to wash it down.

By his twelfth drink, Donghyuck was completely buzzed. His vision blurred around the edges, neon signs bleeding into the dim haze of the club until it felt like he was underwater. The bass rattled through his chest, too heavy. He giggled to himself, for no real reason.

He slammed the glass down on the counter with a clumsy flourish, waving it toward the bartender. “One more! Strongest one you’ve got. Triple it if you can!” His words slurred into each other, almost like a song.

But before the bartender could move, another voice cut in,sharp.

“Hey, did you even talk to the manager yet?”

Donghyuck turned, far too quickly, nearly sliding off his barstool. Mark stood a few feet away, framed by the dim club lights. His brows were drawn together, mouth tight, gaze flicking immediately to the half-empty glasses lined up in front of Donghyuck like trophies.

“Wait-” Mark’s voice sharpened suddenly. “What the hell? Why are you so drunk?”

Donghyuck let out another giggle, pressing his palm to his mouth like he could hide it. “Because..” He waved his free hand vaguely at the crowded dance floor, “Because it’s a party, hyung. Don’t look at me like that.”

Mark’s jaw clenched, and when the bartender reached for another bottle, his voice cracked like a whip. “Are you fucking stupid? He’s clearly out of his head. Don’t you dare serve him another.”

The bartender froze mid-motion, muttering an apology, but Donghyuck pouted like a scolded child, “Hyuuung, don’t yell.”

Mark was already moving, gripping Donghyuck’s arm, “Get up.”

Donghyuck wobbled, the room tilting dangerously as Mark pulled him from the stool. He stumbled forward, falling into Mark’s chest, laughing as though it was all some elaborate prank. “Whoa, careful. You’ll make me fall,” he slurred.

“You’re already falling,” Mark muttered, holding him up. His hand was firm at Donghyuck’s elbow, guiding him toward the hallway.

“Where are we going?” Donghyuck mumbled, leaning heavily against him, “I don’t wanna go home. The music’s fun.”

“To the bathroom. You need to wash your face, maybe puke. Definitely water. Lots of it.”

The bathroom door slammed shut behind them, muting the roar of the club to a low throb. Mark locked it with a sharp click, the sound echoing off the tiles. He steered Donghyuck to the sink, pressing him against the cold porcelain.

“Stay here,” he ordered.

Donghyuck giggled, his head lolling back against the mirror. “Handle me with care.. I am fragile, okay.”

Mark turned on the faucet, scooping water into his hands before splashing it onto Donghyuck’s face.

Donghyuck yelped, jerking upright. “Cold!” He rubbed his face dramatically, but the shock made his laugh louder, breathless, “Hyung, that’s cruel. You’re cruel.”

“Good. You need it.” Mark grabbed paper towels, pressing them into his hands, “Wipe your face properly.”

Donghyuck tried, missing half his cheeks, dripping water down his jaw and collar. He looked at Mark through wet lashes and burst into laughter again. “Did I do good?”

Mark exhaled, shaking his head. “Barely.” He watched as Donghyuck swayed, then added, “I’m getting you some water.”

But before he could step away, Donghyuck’s hand darted out, clumsy but insistent, catching his wrist. “No. Don’t go. Just stay here.”

Mark froze, his pulse jumping under Donghyuck’s grip. Slowly, he turned back.

Donghyuck sighed, leaning his head back against the mirror. His eyes slipped shut, a lazy, drunken smile curving his mouth. The glass was cool against his overheated skin, grounding him more than the alcohol ever could.

Mark leaned on the counter beside him, silent for a while. The water dripped steadily, each drop loud in the quiet. Outside, the bass pulsed faintly, but here, it was just them.

Finally, Mark spoke, voice low, softer than Donghyuck had ever heard. “Hyuck. Are you okay?”

Donghyuck giggled faintly, nodding. “Yes. Yes, hyung. I’m good. So good.”

Mark studied him, skeptical.

Donghyuck cracked one eye open, grin widening. “You worry too much. Always serious. Always scowling.” His words blurred together, but his tone was teasing. “Relax, Mr. Lee. Smile for me.”

Mark didn’t smile. He only sighed, running a hand down his face.

Donghyuck leaned forward suddenly, his forehead nearly bumping Mark’s shoulder before he steadied himself with both hands on the counter. His laughter softened into something gentler, something dangerously close to vulnerable. “Hyung,” he whispered. “Why are you here with me? You should be out there. It’s your party. Everyone wants you.”

Mark’s gaze softened, but his tone stayed firm. “Because someone has to stop you from making a fool of yourself.”

Donghyuck giggled again, his head dropping. “Too late.”

There was silence again, thick and heavy.

And then, without warning, Donghyuck tilted his head, eyes glassy but locked onto Mark’s face. His smile faltered, lips parting as if the truth slipped out before he could stop it.

“Mark hyung,” he whispered, voice quiet, uneven. “You’re so pretty.”

Mark stiffened.

Donghyuck giggled weakly, lifting his hand like he could touch Mark’s face but dropping it halfway, too clumsy to follow through. “So pretty. I don’t get it. Why are you so pretty?” His laugh cracked, sounding almost fragile. “Even your scolding voice is pretty.”

Mark’s heart gave a sharp, inexplicable lurch.

Donghyuck leaned back against the mirror again, eyes closing, a soft smile lingering on his lips. “Don’t leave, hyung. Just stay. Just stay right here. Please.”

Mark swallowed hard, words caught somewhere in his chest. He stayed.

And Donghyuck, still buzzing, still trembling between laughter and truth, whispered again into the too-bright silence, “So, so pretty.”

Mark tried to brush it off, adjusting his sleeve like it would erase the words. “Stop saying things like that. You’re drunk.” He was leaning against the counter, arms crossed, trying to act unbothered, but the way Donghyuck had perched himself on the sink counter made it impossible.

One leg swung lazily over the edge, the other planted firmly, creating space. Before Mark even realized, Donghyuck’s hand was on his wrist, pulling him closer, until he stumbled slightly and ended up exactly where Donghyuck wanted, nestled between his parted thighs.

Donghyuck’s hand came up, cradling Mark’s cheek with a gentle insistence, thumb brushing along the curve of his jaw. “Look at yourself, hyung,” he murmured, voice low, slightly slurred, the heat in his tone crawling straight under Mark’s skin. “Is it even legal to look this good?”

Mark’s heart thudded in his chest, and for once, words failed him. He tried to pull back, just slightly, but Donghyuck’s grip was subtle but firm, keeping him in place. “Donghyuck, you’re really drunk,” he said, trying to make it sound stern, but his voice faltered.

Donghyuck laughed, soft and breathy, and tilted his head to brush his forehead against Mark’s. “I am,” he said, a small giggle escaping. “But that doesn’t make it less true.”

Mark swallowed, heat rushing to his face. “You’re ridiculous,” he muttered, though there was an edge of amusement he couldn’t hide.

Donghyuck’s fingers traced the line of Mark’s jaw, gentle, tilting his face toward him. “Ridiculous?” he repeated, voice softening. “No, I think you’re.. What was the word? Distracting. Yeah, you’re too distracting.”

Mark’s breath caught at the word, and he tried to look anywhere but at Donghyuck’s face, but the insistence in his gaze, half-lidded and drunk, made it impossible. “You’re impossible,” he said, voice low, trying to reclaim some composure.

Donghyuck smiled faintly, brushing a stray lock of hair back from Mark’s forehead. “Maybe,” he said, teasing.

Mark’s chest tightened. He didn’t move. He couldn’t. There was something about the warmth, the closeness, the weight of Donghyuck’s hands on his face, the press of his thighs, that held him captive without a word.

Donghyuck leaned closer, just enough for their noses to nearly touch, thumb tracing along Mark’s lower lip lightly. “Does your brother look like you?” he asked suddenly, voice quieter now, more playful than serious, but still heavy with that odd, intoxicating sincerity.

Mark blinked, caught off guard. “Brother? Why would you ask that?”

“Because, you said you would try to set us up,” Donghyuck said, a slow, teasing grin spreading, “If he looks like you, it means he’s insanely good looking too. Even better if he shares your personality.”

Mark laughed softly, brushing his hair back. “Well, No. He’s a little crazy. Just like you.”

Donghyuck pouted faintly, tilting his head, still holding his face. “That disappoints me,” he murmured, leaning just slightly closer, so Mark could feel the warmth radiating from him. “I was hoping he would be more like you.”

Mark’s breath hitched slightly, the proximity making him dizzy in a way he didn’t like. “That’s a dangerous thing to say,” he said, voice low, catching just enough of the teasing in Donghyuck’s eyes to make him blush.

Donghyuck’s hand slid from his cheek to brush against the collar of Mark’s shirt, tilting his chin up just a fraction, enough to make Mark’s pulse spike. “Is it?” he asked softly, a mischievous glint in his eyes, fingers lingering a second too long.

Mark shook his head slightly, trying to step back but Donghyuck’s thighs, warm and firm, held him in place, and his hand guided Mark back to the exact spot between them. “Donghyuck, seriously,” Mark muttered, trying to reclaim control, though the warmth pooling in his chest was impossible to deny.

Donghyuck giggled, a breathy, teasing sound that curled into Mark’s nerves. “I’m serious,” he said softly, thumb brushing lightly along Mark’s cheekbone. “I’m just noticing things.”

“You shouldn't” Mark spoke as he felt that tug at his chest. 

Donghyuck blinked, the mischievous shine dimming slightly as he tried to mask the sudden vulnerability. Then, almost under his breath, his voice came out muffled, hesitant, “Hyung, can I kiss you? Please?”

Mark froze. The words weren’t loud, but they hit sharp, and he didn’t respond immediately. He only watched as Donghyuck slowly leaned closer, the warmth of his body pressing against Mark, his breath brushing across Mark’s cheek. Their noses nearly touched, and Mark felt the intoxicating heat of him so close that it made his chest tighten and pulse quicken.

Donghyuck’s eyes fluttered shut just a fraction, waiting, just inches away, a breath away from something Mark wasn’t ready to give. The tension thickened, heavy and charged, and for a heartbeat, the world seemed to narrow to just that space between them.

Then Mark snapped. He took a step back, voice firmer, cutting through the haze. “Donghyuck, no. I’ll send someone else to take care of you. You need to sober up..”

Donghyuck blinked, slightly dazed, lips parted, a faint flush on his cheeks. His hand lingered for a moment on Mark’s wrist, then fell to his side as Mark stepped toward the door.

“Stay, please,” Donghyuck murmured, voice soft, almost pleading, as he reached up slightly, but his strength wasn’t enough to hold him back.

“I can’t,” Mark said softly, brushing his hand lightly over Donghyuck’s wrist, letting it drop entirely. Then he turned and left the bathroom, leaving only the faint echo of his footsteps behind.

Donghyuck watched him go, the warmth and closeness evaporating instantly, leaving a hollow ache behind. The sudden emptiness made his head throb even more, the alcohol in his system amplifying the dull, persistent pain. He leaned back against the counter, pressing a hand to his temple, and the headache only seemed to deepen.

His fingers dug lightly into the edge of the sink, knuckles whitening, as the faint scent of Mark lingered in the small bathroom. The tension from before hadn’t left, it only settled heavier now. 

Donghyuck closed his eyes for a moment, trying to ignore the pounding in his skull, but every thought circled back to the warmth he had felt, the pull of Mark’s body, the subtle teasing that had left him unsteady in a way no alcohol could explain.

He let out a quiet, frustrated breath. “Stupid,” he muttered to himself, leaning forward slightly, forehead resting against the cold tiles. “Why does it have to hurt like this?”

Even in the emptiness, even with Mark gone, the memory of the warmth between them lingered, sharp, intoxicating, and impossible to ignore.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ✈️ɞ˚‧｡⋆

[ track eight: House of Balloons / Glass Table Girls  ]

The grand double doors of the mansion opened slowly, and Donghyuck stepped in, every step heavy, his head pounding like a drum. 

He had woken up at five in the evening, a late, reluctant stir from a night of too much wine and honestly, a complete blackout after his eighth drink. His parents had scolded him first, then coaxed him into a “hungover-friendly soup,” and now, here he was, limping into the enormous hall of Mark’s family home, trying his best to look composed while every bright light and polished surface seemed to glare at him.

The chandeliers glinted, their crystals scattering light across the marble floors, and the faint scent of fresh flowers mingled with the rich aroma of roasted meat from the dining room. Donghyuck ran a hand through his hair, wincing slightly at the dull throb in his temple, and trudged toward the center of the hall.

Mark was coming down the staircase, hand on the polished railing, moving with that quiet, composed air that always carried around him. He greeted his parents, Leean and Jeno first, his eyes scanning the room, and then froze, his gaze landing on Donghyuck.

“Uh, is your hangover better?” Mark asked awkwardly, eyebrows furrowed slightly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

Donghyuck blinked, completely baffled. “How do you know about my hangover?” he asked, voice hoarse and dragging, a slight frown creasing his forehead.

Mark’s expression softened, though he still looked unusually serious, “You don’t remember last night?”

Donghyuck tilted his head, confused. “What about last night?”

Mark hesitated for a moment, eyes flicking to the staircase before returning to him. “Nothing. You were just yelling lame jokes in my ears last night.”

Donghyuck shrugged one shoulder, letting out a small, tired laugh. “Forget about that. Had too much to drink. Must have been out of my mind.”

Mark leaned closer slightly, voice dropping to a whisper, “Yeah.. you were.”

Donghyuck winced at the memory he couldn’t quite recall, pressing a hand to his temple. “Perfect. Love that for me,” he muttered under his breath.

A sudden voice came from the other room, warm and confident, cutting through the awkward moment.

“Good evening, everyone,” a stranger said who appeared to be impossibly handsome. His dark hair was perfectly combed, his posture effortless as he stepped into the hall. The room seemed to hum with his presence.

“Finally, I can introduce my younger son properly,” Mark’s father announced, his voice warm and proud, echoing slightly in the grand hall. 

From the doorway stepped Jaemin. He was tall and elegant, with a soft yet sharp jawline, high cheekbones, clear, almost luminous skin, dark eyes that were bright and alert, and hair swept back neatly. There was a calm confidence in the way he carried himself, a quiet charm that seemed to fill the room without effort. His presence drew polite attention from everyone immediately.

“Ah, Jaemin!” Mark’s father continued, gesturing broadly. “This is my younger son. He’s studying in Cambridge and has been a little busy, which is why you haven’t met him until now.”

Jaemin smiled politely, giving a small nod to the parents before stepping forward. “I apologize for not being present earlier,” he said smoothly, “I was finishing up commitments and only just arrived this noon.”

Donghyuck blinked, trying to focus past the lingering pain in his head. The man was undeniably handsome there was no denying it but Donghyuck’s gaze instinctively sought Mark, and he wasn’t even remotely affected by Jaemin’s charm.

Jaemin extended a hand first toward Donghyuck’s parents. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both,” he said, bowing slightly as he shook hands politely. He moved to Jeno and Leean, exchanging brief greetings, warm but formal. Then he turned toward Donghyuck, offering a small, confident smile.

“And you must be Donghyuck,” he said, extending his hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you. It’s a pleasure.”

Donghyuck hesitated, then gave a half-smile and shook his hand weakly. “Yeah, pleasure is all mine,” he said hoarsely, head still pounding. His mind was mostly occupied with the dull ache in his temples, the memory fog of last night, and of course, the ever-present thought of Mark.

Jaemin’s hand was firm but not overbearing, “I hope we’ll get to know each other better,” he said politely, stepping aside to allow everyone to begin moving toward the dining hall.

The mansion’s hall stretched long and grand, the walls lined with polished wood panels and framed portraits, soft rugs muffling their footsteps. The scent of roasted meats and freshly baked bread wafted from the dining room ahead. Donghyuck followed slowly, head aching, pressing a hand against his temple.

Mark led the way, descending the last steps toward the table with his usual quiet composure, while Jeno and Leean flanked the adults, chattering softly about their day. Jaemin fell in step beside Donghyuck, maintaining a polite but unobtrusive presence.

As everyone reached the dining table, Mark’s mother gestured toward the seats. “Jaemin, please sit here. And Donghyuck, next to him, if you don’t mind.”

Donghyuck hesitated slightly, glancing at Mark, who gave him a subtle, unreadable look. He settled into his chair, wincing slightly as the table’s ornate edge pressed against his thigh. Jaemin, sitting opposite him, gave a small polite smile and leaned slightly forward.

“So, Jaemin, what are you studying at Cambridge?” Donghyuck’s mother asked, breaking the silence.

“Financial management,” Jaemin replied smoothly. “It’s challenging but fascinating. The program is very competitive, and I’ve been fortunate to be able to engage in some practical projects alongside my studies.”

Donghyuck’s mother perked up immediately. “That’s wonderful! Donghyuck studies in the UK too, at Oxford,” she said, glancing at him fondly.

Mark’s mother smiled warmly. “That’s a nice coincidence for the two of them. I’m sure they’ll have plenty to discuss.”

Donghyuck groaned faintly, pressing a napkin against his forehead. Mark’s father leaned back in his chair, his eyes sparkling with amusement. 

Mark’s mother chimed in, eyes twinkling. “It’s always nice when young people from similar universities meet. They can help each other with projects, internships, perhaps even collaborate socially.”

Donghyuck groaned again, quietly. “Yeah”

Jeno added lightly, “Networking, social circles, it’s practical. Donghyuck, don’t be shy.”

Donghyuck’s father smirked, “Perhaps you two will find common ground, academically or socially. Sharing experiences can only be good.”

Donghyuck pressed his palm to his forehead, muttering under his breath, “That sounds wonderful.”

Mark’s father leaned forward, his eyes playful. “I think it would be lovely for the boys to get to know each other better.”

Donghyuck blinked, barely able to focus. “Right,” he mumbled.

Donghyuck groaned faintly, head throbbing, as the subtle pressure from the parents and siblings continued.

 Servants quietly placed bowls of vegetable soup in front of everyone, the aroma of roasted meats and freshly baked bread wafting around the table.

Donghyuck wrinkled his nose and pushed the bowl slightly away. “Uh.. I don’t really like vegetable soup,” he muttered, glancing awkwardly at the spoon.

Mark’s mother’s eyes lit up, a soft laugh escaping her. “Oh! That’s a cute coincidence. Jaemin doesn’t enjoy it either,” she said, giving Jaemin a pointed glance. 

Jaemin gave a small, polite nod, as if to silently confirm, “Yes, I avoid it when I can.”

Donghyuck knew exactly what was happening. His mother passed the bread basket first, and everyone reached for rolls. “Jaemin, have you found time to explore Cambridge outside of studies?” she asked, smiling warmly.

“Yes,” Jaemin replied smoothly, tilting his head slightly. “I like to walk around the city, visit the museums when I can, and sometimes watch the local theatre productions. It’s a nice balance to academic work.”

Mark’s mother nodded. “That’s wonderful. Oxford must feel quite similar for you, Donghyuck?”

“Yeah, somewhat,” Donghyuck muttered, rubbing his temple. “It’s good,” he added, feeling his headache throb again.

Jeno, seated nearby, leaned forward slightly. “What kind of theatre productions, Jaemin? Classics, musicals?”

Jaemin smiled faintly. “Mostly modern adaptations of classics. I enjoy plays that mix narrative with some experimental staging, it’s a good way to see creativity applied practically.”

Donghyuck, despite himself, perked up slightly. “Interesting,” he murmured, glancing at Jaemin. “I’ve.. seen a few experimental ones at Oxford. Not too many, though.”

Mark’s father, noticing the slight connection, added gently, “It’s always nice when young people share some intellectual interests. Gives them common ground.”

Donghyuck nodded faintly, sipping water. Jaemin then directly looked at him before asking “Do you have any favourite directors or playwrights?”

“Oh.. uh.. there’s this Indian director, I like some of his work,” Donghyuck said, trying to remember names. 

Donghyuck’s mother smiled faintly, “It seems you two have some overlap already.”

Donghyuck groaned softly under his breath, though he kept the words inaudible. “Please stop noticing..”

The main courses were roast lamb, japchae, and a lot of other side dishes. The adults began eating, the conversation flowing naturally.

Donghyuck tried to focus on cutting his lamb neatly. The conversation naturally drifted from studies to hobbies, Jaemin mentioned photography, and Donghyuck admitted to sketching occasionally, which prompted a short but pleasant exchange about techniques and favourite styles.

Mark’s father leaned back slightly, fingers steepled. “It’s impressive how well-rounded you both are. It makes for good company. Jaemin, don’t you play the piano too?”

Jaemin smiled, “Mostly for relaxation.”

Donghyuck raised an eyebrow as his mother gestured at him. “Oh, I play it too,” he admitted, shrugging.

“See?” Mark’s father said, glancing at the two of them. “Shared creative outlets as well. This is good.”

The conversation continued, naturally branching into movies. Donghyuck noticed Jaemin had a sharp memory for directors’ styles and plot structures, and they both quietly debated a few subtle points without realizing how long they were speaking. Mark’s mother leaned back, smiling, clearly enjoying the subtle interplay.

As dessert plates were cleared, the tension of subtle matchmaking had been woven naturally through hobbies, academics, and conversation. The adults exchanged small glances, knowing exactly what they were doing without ever having to say it aloud.

Finally, Leean broke the rhythm, “You know.. it would be really nice if you two dated,” she said, eyes sparkling at both young men.

Donghyuck yelped instantly, slamming a hand over his face. “Leean!” His cheeks burned, and he nearly tipped over his water glass.

Mark’s mother’s laughter rang softly, melodic and teasing. “Oh, that would be absolutely adorable. I can already picture their wedding,” she said, looking between Donghyuck and Jaemin with a fond, amused smile.

All heads turned slightly as Mark, who had been quietly eating, abruptly dropped his fork with a sharp clatter. 

Silence fell immediately. He sat back, expression unreadable, then chipped a faint smile. “Apologies,” he said softly, “Please, continue.”

After dinner, the house naturally split smaller groups. The parents had drifted into the living room as they compared calendars and talked through wedding logistics. Leean had disappeared into her corner of the couch, earbuds in and phone angled close to her face, ignoring everybody. Jeno had pulled Mark aside almost immediately, and though Mark followed, he knew it was more out of politeness than genuine interest.

Jeno was explaining something about travel schedules, but Mark wasn’t really hearing him. His eyes had flicked once toward the bar room, where Jaemin and Donghyuck were. 

It should have been nothing. Yet Mark couldn’t stop thinking about it, how the two of them would look leaning over the counter, Jaemin with his easy grin, Donghyuck’s laugh slipping out in that soft, golden way Mark always secretly treasured. He could picture it too clearly. 

He nodded at Jeno again, though he hadn’t caught a single word of what had just been said. His chest tightened the longer he imagined it, the laughter that might already be spilling from behind that closed door.

Finally, he cleared his throat softly. “Excuse me for a bit,” he said.

Jeno blinked, mid-sentence, “Uh, sure.”

Mark offered a polite smile, then turned away. The hallway stretched long and quiet, dim lights throwing shadows against the walls. The closer he came to the bar door, the more aware he became of his own heartbeat. And then, just as he reached it, he heard it. Laughter. Jaemin’s chuckle first, then Donghyuck’s brighter, higher sound chasing right after.

The sound struck something raw in him.

He pushed the door open.

The bar was warm and polished, smaller than the grand dining space but no less refined. Bottles gleamed along the back shelves, crystal glasses catching the golden glow of the lamps. Jaemin leaned against the counter, posture loose, while Donghyuck sat perched on a stool, his elbow resting lazily against the polished wood. Both turned when Mark entered, their laughter still hanging faint in the air.

“Hyung,” Jaemin greeted cheerfully, grinning as if Mark had walked in at the perfect time, “Join us.”

Mark’s eyes flicked to Donghyuck, just for a second. Donghyuck gave him a small smile before looking back down at his glass.

Mark stepped further inside, but he didn’t sit. His words came out clipped, directed squarely at his younger brother, “You’re supposed to call the designer and book our fitting.”

Jaemin’s grin faltered, confusion knitting his brow, “Do I have to do that now?”

“Yes.” Mark’s voice was firm, “You do.”

Jaemin studied him for a beat, lips pressing together. Then he exhaled through his nose, half-amused, half-exasperated. “Alright.” He slid his phone into his hand and straightened. Before heading out, he gave Donghyuck another smile, lighter this time. “We’ll finish this story soon.”

Donghyuck chuckled, shaking his head, “Can’t wait.”

The door clicked shut behind Jaemin, leaving the two of them alone.

Silence pressed in immediately. It wasn’t heavy at first, just noticeable. Mark crossed to the counter at last, taking the seat Jaemin had vacated. He reached straight for the nearest bottle, uncorking it with a sharper twist than necessary. The liquid poured quickly into his glass, catching the warm light as it rose. He downed it in one swallow, the burn sharp down his throat.

“Hey,” he muttered finally, his gaze fixed on the counter.

Donghyuck tilted his head slightly, studying him, “Hey.”

Mark tapped his glass against the wood, then reached for the bottle again. “You seem to be vibing well with Jaemin.”

A grin tugged at Donghyuck’s lips, “Yep. He’s really funny. Kind of the opposite of you.”

Mark’s mouth twitched at the corner, but it wasn’t quite a smile. “Yeah. He is.” He poured another drink, filled higher this time, and swallowed it down almost immediately.

Donghyuck’s gaze lingered on the glass, his brow furrowing just a touch. He didn’t comment though. Instead, he leaned back on his stool, his fingers drumming lightly against the edge of the counter in a steady rhythm.

Mark set his glass down, the clink sharper than intended. “Anyways. What’s up?”

Donghyuck shrugged, “Nothing much. Jaemin asked me out to explore this night market tomorrow, so those are my only plans so far.”

The words landed like a weight in Mark’s chest. He reached for the bottle again, slower this time, and poured himself another drink. His jaw clenched faintly as he lifted it, tossing the contents back in one go. “Cool,” he said flatly, almost under his breath.

Donghyuck frowned, shifting forward slightly, “Are you okay?”

Mark let out a laugh that didn’t sound quite real. “Of course I am.” He tipped the bottle toward him in a silent offering. “Do you want a drink?”

Donghyuck shook his head. “No. I already had too much last night. The hangover’s still there. Jaemin already persuaded me to have one earlier, I can’t handle another.”

Mark’s eyes flicked to him at that. He set the bottle down with a muted thud, “Right.”

The silence stretched again, heavier this time. The clock ticked faintly in the background, each second threading tighter around them.

Donghyuck shifted in his seat, clearly feeling the weight of it too. Finally, he spoke, hoping he could resolve the tension, “Anyways, Jaemin was just telling me-”

“Does your whole fucking life revolve around Jaemin already?”

The words snapped out of Mark before he could stop them, sharp and loud. They cut across the quiet, hanging in the air with a sting that made even Mark’s chest clench.

Donghyuck froze, eyes widening, caught between surprise and confusion. His lips parted like he was about to say something, but nothing came immediately. The room went still, so still Mark could hear his own breathing, harsher than before.

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Donghyuck’s eyes widened as Mark’s words hit, sharp and unfiltered, “What is that supposed to mean?”

Mark’s jaw tightened. He couldn’t meet Donghyuck’s gaze, couldn’t stand the vulnerability that flickered in his expression. His fingers gripped the edge of the stool as if it could anchor him. “You know exactly what that’s supposed to mean,” he muttered, low and rough.

“No. I don’t,” Donghyuck said immediately, voice sharper now, almost accusin, “Why are you mad about it? Tell me.”

“I’m not mad,” Mark said, a quick, almost too-easy lie that even he didn’t fully believe. He tried to push past the tension.

Donghyuck blinked slowly, leaning back just slightly but keeping his gaze steady. “You yelled at me, Hyung. That doesn’t sound like someone who’s ‘not mad.’”

Mark’s hands clenched on the stool. He twisted, trying to create distance, to escape the intensity pressing down on him. “Just let me go,” he muttered, voice strained.

Donghyuck’s hand shot out before Mark could take another step, wrapping around his wrist with a grip firm enough to stop him, “No. What’s your problem? Why are you mad about this?”

Mark jerked slightly, heart hammering,  “I said, just let me go.”

“No. Tell me.” Donghyuck leaned closer, eyes locked on Mark’s. “Aren’t you supposed to be happy we’re vibing? Isn’t this what you wanted?”

Mark’s throat tightened, “Donghyuck, please.”

“Answer me, Mark hyung,” Donghyuck said, voice softening just slightly but still pressing. “What is the issue? Weren’t you the one rooting last night to set me up with Jaemin?”

The words hit Mark like a spark. He froze for a second, staring at the counter, feeling his chest tighten. Then the dam broke. “Yes!” he shouted, voice shaking, “But that was before you fucking called me pretty, before you had my face between your hands, begging me to stay with you. Before you begged me to kiss you and I realized I want to do that too! I want it so pathetically, Donghyuck.”

The room went quiet, the words echoing harshly against the walls. Donghyuck’s mouth opened, then closed. He blinked at him, completely unprepared for the confession, for the admission that cut through his own heart with its honesty and its heat.

Mark’s chest heaved. His hands shook slightly. His face flushed from the sheer weight of what he had just admitted.

Donghyuck reached out instinctively, as if to stop him, but Mark had already started moving toward the door. “Hyung,” Donghyuck’s voice cracked, a mix of disbelief and a sudden vulnerability, but Mark ignored it, stepping faster, urgency propelling him.

The door slammed behind him, the sound sharp, final.

Donghyuck stayed frozen, hand hanging in the air as if he could still reach Mark. His heartbeat thudded painfully in his chest. His eyes roamed over the counter, lingering on the empty glasses, the half-full bottle, anything that could anchor him back into the moment. The warmth of the room felt suddenly suffocating, the shadows pressing closer, and his stomach twisted.

Slowly, almost mechanically, he grabbed the bottle. His fingers shook as he lifted it, tipping back the last bit of liquid. The burn raced down his throat, sharp and immediate, but it did nothing to dull the tight, twisting ache inside.

He set it down roughly and uncorked another bottle, the motion uneven. He poured with shaking hands, not caring that it sloshed over the edges of the glass, because he had to do something with the silence Mark left behind.

Donghyuck’s head tipped back slightly, eyes half-closed, staring at the ceiling, letting the warm air of the bar surround him as he tried to process everything. His heart was still racing, but now it was mixed with something else, something hotter, sharper and confusing.

All he could do was pour, drink, and stare at the space Mark had left behind, trying desperately to make sense of the storm unleashed.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ✈️ɞ˚‧｡⋆

[ track nine: bulleya  ]

Donghyuck pushed open the polished glass door of the boutique, the soft chime of the bell announcing his arrival. 

The space smelled faintly of new fabric and vanilla pastries. The floors gleamed beneath his shoes, mirrors reflecting the carefully curated racks of tuxedos and shirts in muted shades. 

His eyes immediately found Jaemin sprawled on the long velvet couch in the corner, legs stretched out, arms draped casually over the sides. He was holding up one tie after another, bright colors that should have looked ridiculous but somehow on him didn’t. 

Across the room, Jeno was at a counter, examining a crisp white shirt. His posture was upright, precise, and focused, almost clinical. And then there was Mark. 

Mark was in the far corner, surrounded by tuxedos of every shade, his hands brushing lightly over the lapels as if memorizing the feel of the fabrics. Donghyuck’s chest constricted a little at the sight

He smiled faintly, walking toward the group. “Hi, Jeno hyung and Jaemin.” His tone was light, and Jaemin’s face brightened immediately, a grin splitting wide. “Hey!” Jaemin said, tossing a tie back onto the couch in mock frustration.

Then Donghyuck turned toward Mark, lowering his voice to a soft, tentative, “Hi.”

Mark didn’t look up.

Donghyuck’s smile faltered just a little, but he shrugged internally. He moved along the racks, picking up a few different bow ties, his eyes flitting over fabrics and textures while Mark busied himself with tuxedos.

Mark had selected a light red bowtie and was fiddling with it in front of a mirror, adjusting the angle, checking the knot. Donghyuck raised an eyebrow. “That doesn’t look as good as the dark red one,” he said, hoping to ease the tension between them.

Mark ignored him, tilting the mirror slightly, scrutinizing his reflection as though Donghyuck hadn’t even spoken.

He moved closer, stepping beside him, lowering his voice further. “Mark hyung.. can you pass me those cufflinks?”

No response.

He leaned slightly, just enough to look past Mark’s shoulder at the small velvet box sitting nearby. “Mark hyung..”

Still nothing.

Donghyuck sighed, rolling his eyes lightly. “Fine.” He reached for them himself, lifting the cufflinks carefully. Mark’s eyes flicked toward him for a fraction of a second, nothing more. He was praying that Jaemin and Jeno were too busy with their own stuff to hear their whispers.

A soft cough from across the room drew their attention. Jeno had excused himself to another room, muttering something about measurements and wanting to try on different designs and consult the designer. Donghyuck glanced back at Jaemin, who was holding his phone against his ear, frowning slightly. “I have to take this,” Jaemin said quickly before striding out of the room.

The sudden quiet left Donghyuck and Mark alone, the air between them dense and heavy. Donghyuck’s chest tightened, his heartbeat quickening despite the casual setting of the boutique.

He cleared his throat softly, stepping a little closer, “So, we’re not gonna address the elephant in the room?”

Mark’s hands were busy with the bowtie, twisting the fabric in precise motions, pretending not to hear him.

Donghyuck’s lips pressed into a thin line, frustration flickering in his eyes. He stepped even closer, “Hyung, you cannot keep ignoring me.”

Mark didn’t respond. Not a flicker. Not even a glance.

Donghyuck exhaled slowly, trying to keep the rising tension in check. “Hyung.. silent treatment isn’t right.” He tilted his head slightly, watching Mark, his voice softening, but the frustration was still there. 

Finally, Mark let out a small, exasperated sigh, eyes narrowing just slightly as he glanced up at Donghyuck. His voice was low, steady, but the weight behind it made Donghyuck pause. “No. You know what is not right?” he said, tilting his head slightly. “Wanting to kiss your soon-to-be brother-in-law.”

Donghyuck froze for a moment, chest tight, and blinked slowly. The words hit him like a cold gust of wind, sharp, impossible to ignore. His heart skipped in a way that made him swallow hard. The boutique, the quiet, the distant hum of air conditioning, even the smell of polished fabric, all seemed to press in around them.

Mark’s eyes flicked down at Donghyuck for just a moment, “So, for the happiness of everyone involved,” he said carefully, “We should pretend we don’t know each other. Pretend this never happened. Let this wedding happen happily. So, Donghyuck, just leave me alone.”

The words landed like a hammer. Donghyuck’s chest tightened immediately, a sharp ache that made it hard to breathe. His lips parted slightly, caught between arguing and holding back. “It can’t be a happy wedding if you’re busy fantasizing about kissing someone who isn’t your fiancée,” he said, voice just above a whisper but laced with tension.

Mark didn’t turn. He adjusted the bowtie again, but his fingers were rigid, trembling ever so slightly. “Please stop talking,” he said finally.

Donghyuck froze for a heartbeat, the silence stretching between them, thick and almost suffocating. Then, softly, almost reluctantly, he whispered, “Okay.”

He stepped closer, slowly, letting the subtle warmth of his body brush against Mark’s side. His hand lifted almost unconsciously, resting lightly at Mark’s shoulder before sliding toward the collar of the crisp shirt. His fingers brushed the fabric, adjusting the fold slightly, and Mark stiffened under the touch.

Mark’s jaw tightened imperceptibly, eyes fixed on the mirror in front of him, though his pulse thudded audibly in his ears. Every nerve ending seemed alive, alert to the subtle pressure of Donghyuck’s touch. The slight brush of fingers over the edge of his bowtie, the warmth of Donghyuck’s hand near his neck. 

The boutique felt impossibly small, the mirrors multiplying the images of them, the racks of tuxedos fading into the background as the air thickened with unspoken words. Donghyuck’s fingers moved slowly,, brushing over the knot of the bowtie, pressing just enough to smooth the line, then retreating.

Mark’s lips parted slightly as he swallowed, the movement subtle but loaded. His gaze stayed fixed on the mirror, but he was acutely aware of Donghyuck’s presence, of the way his hand moved with care. Every adjustment, every fraction of a second, sent a shiver through him, a thrill that was maddening and impossible to ignore.

Donghyuck’s fingers finally slipped away from the collar, retreating slowly down Mark’s shoulder and arm, leaving behind a faint warmth, a lingering sensation that made Mark exhale softly, almost unwillingly. 

“There, you can stop fiddling with it now,” Donghyuck spoke one last time before moving away. 

Before Mark could respond, Jeno entered the room again, carrying two shirts with him. He tried his best to pass a sweet smile and ignore the ache Donghyuck’s touch had left him with. 

Jaemin too returned in a few minutes, and immediately flopped onto the couch again, tossing a tie onto the pile. “I’m starving,” he muttered, rubbing his stomach.

Donghyuck shot Mark a glance, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. Mark, stiff and quiet, simply adjusted his bowtie without responding. The air between them remained taut, thick with the remnants of the previous moment.

Everyone split tasks again, Mark fiddling with a darker bowtie, Donghyuck sorting cufflinks, Jeno checking shirt sleeves, and Jaemin trying on a patterned tie that seemed far too loud. The room was quiet except for the occasional rustle of fabric and the soft click of Jaemin’s phone as he checked the time.

Then Jaemin sat back, stretching and looking over at Donghyuck with a bright grin, “Hey, why don’t we all get lunch? It’s noon already.”

Before Mark or Donghyuck could respond, Jeno chimed in quickly. “That’s a great plan. Yeah, lunch is perfect.”

Donghyuck glanced at Mark, raising an eyebrow. Mark gave him a tight-lipped look and muttered, “Fine,” though his tone was clipped.

They left the boutique and stepped into the car, Donghyuck beside Jaemin, Mark and Jeno in the front. Donghyuck’s leg brushed Jaemin’s slightly, and Jaemin smiled in playful acknowledgement. Mark, glancing in the rearview mirror, felt the tight coil in his chest.

When they arrived at the restaurant, the low lighting immediately set a warm, intimate tone. The tables were spaced just far enough apart for privacy, candles flickering softly on each.

Mark muttered as they were seated, “Is this really the best place you found?”

Jaemin laughed lightly, “Come on, I heard they serve great food. Plus, it was rated as one of the best for couples online. Thought it would suit you and Jeno hyung.”

Donghyuck leaned slightly toward Jaemin, “Us too, then,” he said, flicking his eyes toward Mark for a moment, smirk just barely restrained.

Jaemin’s eyes twinkled. “Guess that makes it a double date,” he said lightly, though there was a subtle tease in his tone.

Mark’s jaw tightened, eyes flicking between them. He kept his voice measured, “Right.”

Donghyuck, unfazed, nudged Jaemin lightly with his elbow. “So Jaemin, what’s your favorite thing to do in the UK when you’re not in Cambridge? I am trying to make a list of things to do when I go back.”

Jaemin leaned back, pretending to think. “I just like to visit multiple art galleries. If you want, can I show you my favourite ones?”

Donghyuck tilted his head, a sly smile forming, “I am already looking forward to that.”

Jaemin’s grin widened. “I cannot wait to go back then,” he said softly, a subtle lilt of flirtation in his voice.

Mark shifted slightly, keeping his focus on the menu, but he felt it, the way Donghyuck’s shoulder brushed lightly against Jaemin’s, how their laughter mingled over small comments, subtle, easy.

Donghyuck smirked, voice low, “You like old vinyls, right? We could hunt for some records together.”

Jaemin’s eyes sparkled, leaning slightly closer, “Only if you help me pick the rare ones. I can’t trust myself to know what’s actually good.”

Mark’s hand tightened slightly around his fork, his jaw tight. He felt that pang again, watching Donghyuck so relaxed, so animated with someone else.

Jaemin laughed softly, nudging Donghyuck again. “You know, you’re more persuasive than you look. I almost forgot we came here for food, not just chatting.”

Donghyuck tilted his head, grinning faintly. “I have that effect. Be careful, or I’ll keep you talking all afternoon.”

Jaemin leaned back on the chair, “I would probably let you.”

Mark, sitting stiffly across from them, felt the fire in his chest flare. Every laugh, every glance, every easy movement between them, it made him ache in a way that was almost unbearable. He kept his voice calm, clipped. “Can we order before we all faint from your gross flirting?”

Jaemin raised an eyebrow, grinning, “Sure.”

Donghyuck leaned forward, eyes flicking to Mark for just a second. “You okay there, hyung? You look tense.”

Mark’s hand tightened around his fork. “Fine,” he said shortly, refusing to meet Donghyuck’s gaze.

Donghyuck reached across, gesturing to a dessert menu with a playful flick of his hand, “I bet you would pick the weirdest flavor first. Am I right?”

Jaemin laughed, leaning toward him slightly. “Maybe. But only if you promise not to judge me.”

Donghyuck smirked, leaning just a hair closer, whispering under his breath, “Only a little.”

Mark exhaled through his nose, tight and quiet, stirring the drink in his glass. He hated how small and insignificant he felt, sitting across from them, watching the easy connection, the subtle teasing, the way Donghyuck’s eyes lingered a fraction longer than necessary on Jaemin.

Every subtle gesture, glance, and smile made Mark’s chest tighten unbearably, simmering jealousy gnawing at him.

Mark finally muttered, voice sharp but quiet, “So, who’s ordering first?”

Donghyuck’s smile lingered, turning toward him just briefly, calm but teasing, “You can.”

Mark didn’t answer, pretending to examine the menu, though he felt Donghyuck’s gaze linger on him. His hand tightened around the menu, heart hammering, every instinct screaming at him to move closer, to stake his claim, but he stayed frozen, forcing a controlled calm he didn’t feel.

Donghyuck’s laugh floated across the table, light, teasing, and utterly effortless. Jaemin laughed in response, and Mark sat rigid, every laugh and glance a knife-edge of jealousy slicing through his chest next to Jeno who was completely oblivious. 

The food had arrived just as their conversations settled into that weird rhythm completely, artfully garnished pastas, grilled fish with glistening butter sauce, a basket of warm bread. 

Jaemin, with his effortless charm, had leaned back into his chair as he forked a piece of salmon, his grin sharp and knowing. “Hyuck, you weren’t lying about your stories being absolutely crazy” he said with a sparkle in his eyes, tilting his head toward Donghyuck. “I swear, you could sell them as stand-up comedy.”

Donghyuck laughed softly, shoulders shaking, his hand brushing Jaemin’s arm briefly as if the touch was casual (it wasn’t to Mark), “What can I say? You’re just a great audience.”

Mark’s jaw tightened. He stabbed at a piece of pasta with a little too much force, his fork clinking against the porcelain plate. He didn’t say anything, though. He just chewed, the muscles in his face taut, trying desperately to keep his expression neutral.

Jeno, oblivious to the undercurrent, was busy buttering a piece of bread and sliding it across to Jaemin without even looking. Jaemin accepted it with a distracted smile, still caught up in the back-and-forth with Donghyuck. Mark could barely swallow. The laughter between them, the way their voices overlapped, the way Donghyuck’s eyes lingered just a fraction too long, none of it sat right with him. The candlelight only made Donghyuck’s skin glow warmer, his laughter seem fuller, his ease beside Jaemin more obvious. Every second of it was scraping against Mark’s chest, dragging sharp edges across places he didn’t want touched.

When Donghyuck leaned a little closer toward Jaemin to murmur something that made Jaemin burst into quiet laughter, Mark’s restraint snapped. His chair scraped against the floor abruptly as he pushed it back and stood, the sudden movement startling enough to draw everyone’s attention.

“I have to take a call,” Mark muttered flatly, not meeting anyone’s gaze.

“Now?” Jeno asked, brow furrowed.

“Yeah. Important.” Mark’s tone was clipped.

Jeno blinked at him but shrugged, “Alright.”

And then Mark was gone, striding away from the table.

It had been minutes, maybe two or four, before a waiter, balancing a tray, passed too closely by Donghyuck’s side and let something fall discreetly onto his lap. At first, he didn’t register it. A white napkin, folded neatly, seemingly an accident. But when he glanced down, his fingers brushing against the fabric, he felt the corner tucked in tight. Unfolding it carefully beneath the table, his heart thudded as his eyes caught the uneven scrawl of handwriting.

In the bathroom in 2.

For a moment, Donghyuck froze, pulse ricocheting in his veins. His hands felt clumsy against the napkin, his throat tightening as if he couldn’t swallow. His chest rose and fell too quickly, though he forced his expression to remain easy and unbothered.

Jaemin was still chatting with Jeno who was slicing into his fish. No one noticed the way Donghyuck’s hands trembled slightly as he tucked the napkin into his pocket, slipping it away before it could catch anyone’s eye.

He excused himself softly, his chair sliding back without much sound. “I’ll just use the restroom and be back.” His voice was casual, but his body felt tense as a wire as he moved.

The restaurant’s layout guided him toward the back corner, where the restrooms were tucked away behind a long corridor. The low golden lights dimmed further in that space, casting more shadow than glow, and his footsteps echoed faintly on the polished floor. Each step made his chest constrict tighter. He was nervous, shaken, but some undeniable pull kept his feet moving forward.

Before he could even push the restroom door open, however, a sudden hand gripped his wrist with firm insistence and tugged him sideways. The breath rushed out of his lungs in shock as he was pulled into an empty hallway that branched off from the main one, quieter, cloaked in the absence of other diners. His back collided against the wall with a muted thud, not painful, but enough to jolt him into awareness.

Mark. His body loomed closer than Donghyuck had ever let it before, the scent of his cologne sharp and dizzying. 

Mark didn’t give him space to breathe. His palm slid up from the wall to Donghyuck’s shoulder, shoving him more firmly back against the plaster as if he couldn’t stand the thought of even an inch between them. 

Before Donghyuck could even form another word, Mark’s mouth was on his.

 It was sudden, all fire and no hesitation, lips colliding hard enough to make Donghyuck’s head tip back against the wall. Donghyuck gasped softly against his mouth, the sound caught between shock and surrender. “Hyung-” he managed, his voice trembling as he tried to pull in air.

But Mark didn’t let him finish. His lips returned, pressing harder, shutting down the word before it could even leave his tongue. Each kiss was rougher, deeper, as if Mark was afraid Donghyuck might slip away if he gave him the chance to speak. His hands braced firmly, one still caging him against the wall, the other curling around his jaw, tilting his face up so there was nowhere to look but at him, nothing to feel but him.

His hands finally lifted, hesitantly at first, fingers brushing against Mark’s chest as if testing the solidity of him. But the moment Mark bit gently at his lower lip, pulling a sharp inhale from him, something in Donghyuck snapped too.

He reached up with sudden force, his hand slipping around the back of Mark’s neck, fingers threading into his hair at the nape. With one decisive tug, he yanked Mark closer, forcing the space between them to collapse entirely. Their chests pressed flush, heat radiating through layers of fabric, the kiss deepening until it was no longer clear who was pulling harder.

Donghyuck’s lips moved fiercely now, meeting Mark’s pace with equal hunger. His thumb brushed the line of Mark’s jaw, holding him there, refusing to let him pull away even for a second. The hallway was silent save for the sound of their ragged breaths between kisses, the faint scrape of fabric as they pushed closer and closer.

Mark’s hand slid lower, gripping Donghyuck’s waist firmly, almost possessively, fingers curling as if he needed to keep him there. His teeth grazed Donghyuck’s mouth briefly, sending a shiver down his spine, before his lips returned in a kiss so deep it stole every trace of air.

Donghyuck clutched harder at the back of his neck, pulling him in, letting himself fall fully into the chaos of it, no longer fighting the way his chest ached for this, the way his body leaned into the fire.

Their mouths finally broke apart, breathless and raw, a thin thread of heat still lingering in the air between them. Mark leaned back first, chest rising and falling in a ragged rhythm, before he staggered half a step away and turned to press his back against the opposite wall. His head tipped back, eyes closed for a moment as he dragged in air like a man who had just surfaced from drowning.

Donghyuck stayed where he was, spine flat to the wall, lips still tingling, heart thundering against his ribs. He swallowed, staring at Mark through the haze of adrenaline and fire, trying to piece himself back together.

“Didn’t you say,” his voice was unsteady, breaking into a weak laugh, “We shouldn’t even talk to each other?”

Mark’s head turned, his eyes finding him. His lips parted, the ghost of a bitter smile tugging at them, and his answer came low, “I fucking hate you.”

Donghyuck’s chest clenched, though his lips curved faintly, irony catching in his throat. He tilted his head, “Yeah?”

Mark’s eyes narrowed just slightly, “Yeah.”

And before Donghyuck could even blink, Mark pushed off the wall in two strides and had him by the waist, dragging him forward, slamming their mouths together again. This kiss was no calmer than the first, it was wild, desperate, messy, like he couldn’t bear the thought of stopping now that he had started. Donghyuck gasped into it, his fingers flying up instinctively, grabbing at Mark’s shoulders, holding on as Mark devoured the air between them.

Their breaths tangled, each kiss more consuming than the last, until Donghyuck had to break away for half a second, forehead resting against Mark’s, lips brushing as he whispered against his mouth, “Your fiancé is waiting for you outside.”

Mark’s chest rose sharply, eyes flicking over Donghyuck’s face, burning with want and defiance in equal measure. He didn’t pull away though. He didn’t let go. Instead, his hand tightened at Donghyuck’s waist, and he breathed back, so close their lips nearly touched again, “One last kiss?”

Donghyuck’s heart leapt painfully against his ribs, but he nodded, barely more than a whisper, “One last kiss.”

And then their mouths met again, slower this time but no less consuming, a final collapse into the fire that had been clawing at them both for weeks. 

⋆｡‧˚ʚ✈️ɞ˚‧｡⋆

[ track ten: adrenaline ]

The grand double doors of the Lee mansion opened wide, spilling light from the chandeliers onto the stone steps. 

Mark stepped in first, followed by Jaemin and his parents.  The space smelled faintly of polished wood and citrus polish, the dining hall beyond already set up for the afternoon’s event. White linens stretched across the table, silver cutlery gleamed, and crystal glasses caught the glint of the lights. A chef from Italy had been flown in for the official menu tasting ahead of the wedding.

Mark’s shoes clicked softly against the marble floor. His parents talked to Donghyuck’s parents, discussing flights, menus, and arrangements while Jaemin had engaged Jeno and Leean in some funny story, but Mark’s gaze was fixed forward. He could feel Donghyuck fall into step beside him.

“Try to keep your hands off me today,” Donghyuck murmured casually, whispering so lightly that only Mark could hear it. 

Mark didn’t turn his head, didn’t allow the flicker of his jaw to betray how those words landed. His reply was clipped, whispered under his breath, the corner of his mouth barely moving, “What happened yesterday was an honest mistake. One we won’t be repeating today.”

“Sure, hyung,” Donghyuck said, smirking a little. He slowed his step half a fraction, keeping his voice pitched for Mark alone, “In that case, I should go find Jaemin.”

That stopped Mark cold. He faltered mid-step, his spine going rigid, and for a second, he couldn’t quite mask the flare of heat that surged through his chest. His parents continued on ahead without noticing, but Mark turned his head sharply, eyes narrowing as he hissed, “Do whatever you want.” 

Donghyuck lingered where he was, the air around him suddenly still, watching Mark’s retreating back. The corner of his lips tugged upward, before he leaned lazily against the polished wall. His head tilted, the chandeliers overhead catching in his dark hair as he replied to Mark, “Sure, hyung.”

The long table gleamed under the chandelier’s glow, plates laid out in a pristine spread of appetizers and small bowls of dips and sauces. The tasting had begun in full swing, everyone discussing textures and flavors as waiters shuffled in and out with fresh dishes.

Mark sat quietly in the middle of it, between Jeno on his left and the only seat still unoccupied on his right. He didn’t even have to look when he felt Donghyuck take that chair, his presence unmistakable.

“Comfortable, hyung?” Donghyuck asked.

Mark kept his eyes trained on the small dish in front of him, cutting carefully into the appetizer as though its existence was the most important thing in the room.

Donghyuck didn’t mind. His hand casually slid beneath the table until his fingers brushed the side of Mark’s thigh. He pressed gently, a simple touch, but enough to make Mark’s fork pause midair. Mark finally looked up, dark eyes narrowing at him in sharp warning.

Donghyuck only smiled, unbothered. “So,” he said, completely ignoring the silent threat, “What do you think of the meal so far?”

The scrape of Mark’s fork against the plate was louder than it should’ve been as he shoved Donghyuck’s hand away under the table. Donghyuck let his hand fall back to his lap, but not without an exaggerated pout, tilting his head, eyes widening into the perfect imitation of a kicked puppy. He even sighed softly, like he had been gravely wronged. Then, as if to prove just how little Mark’s rejection rattled him, he reached for a bowl of dip on the table.

He dipped his fingers in, subtly, but enough for Mark to notice out of the corner of his eye and then brought them to his lips, licking them clean slowly, accompanied by a flicker of tongue and a quiet hum of approval at the taste.

Mark’s jaw tightened. His hand around the glass of water flexed just slightly, knuckles pale. He forced himself to keep chewing, to keep his gaze fixed on his plate as though he hadn’t noticed a single thing.

Donghyuck smiled faintly, satisfied with himself, and leaned back in his chair, watching Mark’s ears turn just the faintest shade of red.

The tasting carried on. Waiters replaced dishes, glasses refilled, voices rose in cheerful chatter. Mark tried to focus on his plate, cutting a crisp chip and popping it into his mouth with mechanical precision.

Donghyuck leaned closer, sliding a small bowl of deep red chili dip between them. “Have this, hyung,” he murmured smoothly, “You definitely need some spice in your life.”

Mark coughed lightly at the timing, choking for half a second as the chili-laced words slipped under his skin far more than the dip ever could. He shot him another look, but Donghyuck was already busy dipping another chip in and crunching on it like nothing had happened.

The main dish arrived not long after, with two carefully plated alternatives. A small debate started among the table. Jeno leaned forward, peering critically between them before pointing with his fork. “Choice one for me. Feels lighter, cleaner.”

Donghyuck barely waited a beat before raising his own fork, “Choice two clearly. Feels more passionate and flavourful.”

The tally was even, and soon all eyes turned toward Mark, who sat between the two, his opinion clearly the deciding one.

Jeno smiled, elbow resting lazily on the table as he grinned at him, “Come on, Mark. It’s obviously choice one, isn’t it? Isn’t that your favorite?”

Before Mark could answer, Donghyuck leaned in slightly, his voice softer, almost coaxing, “Please, hyung,” he said, eyes shining with a quiet plea that wasn’t just about food.

Mark hesitated, lips pressing together. His gaze flicked briefly between the two dishes, then toward Donghyuck. For one sharp second, it felt like the whole room quieted, even though conversation still buzzed around them.

Finally, he cleared his throat. “I’ve been.. feeling more like choice two lately,” he said evenly, setting his fork down with finality.

Donghyuck’s smile spread slowly, smug but sweet, as though he had just won something that no one else at the table could even see. Mark didn’t meet his gaze again, but his fingers tightened imperceptibly around his napkin. 

The tasting ended in a haze of chatter and satisfied nods, the family settling their opinions while staff cleared the last of the plates. Mark sat quietly, half-listening, until Donghyuck pushed back his chair with a scrape that caught just enough attention.

“If everyone allows me, especially you, Jeno hyung,” Donghyuck said smoothly, flashing an easy smile, “I’d like to steal Mark hyung for a little while. I found out yesterday that he had the same subject in university as me, and there’s this assignment I’d appreciate some help with.”

Jeno arched a brow, “Didn’t you tell me that you finished all your stuff before coming here?”

Donghyuck’s shrug was unbothered, “This one came up a little later.”

Jeno nodded, “Go on, sure.”

“Thank you,” Donghyuck said lightly, already on his feet. He caught Mark’s wrist under the table and tugged before anyone could comment further, dragging him out of the dining hall and down the wide corridor toward his bedroom.

The door clicked shut, the lock sliding home with a soft finality.

Mark leaned back against it immediately, arms crossing over his chest, his smirk lazy and sharp all at once. “So this is your ‘assignment,’ huh?” he murmured, tone edged with amusement.

Donghyuck didn’t bother with excuses. He stepped close, hand curling around Mark’s shirt as he pulled him forward, voice low. “You said it was one last kiss,” he breathed, tilting his face up, “But I don’t think I had enough.”

Mark’s smirk deepened, though his hand slid without hesitation to Donghyuck’s waist, gripping him firmly and yanking him closer. “Well,” he said softly, dangerously close to his ear, “You’ll have to stop at some point. I’m getting married in a month.”

Donghyuck rolled his eyes and whispered, “Shut up.” And then his mouth was on Mark’s, their kiss immediate and hungry.

They stumbled backward, tangled in urgency, until Donghyuck shoved him toward the bed. Mark’s knees hit the mattress first, and he fell onto it with a muffled grunt, propping himself up on his elbows. Donghyuck climbed onto his lap in one fluid movement, straddling him, hands fisting in Mark’s collar as he kissed him again, harder.

Mark gave in with a groan, sliding his hands around Donghyuck’s back, pulling him flush against his chest. His lips trailed hungrily down Donghyuck’s jaw, then lower, brushing across the sensitive line of his neck before he bit softly at the skin.

Donghyuck’s breath stuttered, his fingers curling tighter in Mark’s shirt.

Mark drew back just enough to whisper, voice rough, “I didn’t know kissing could be this fucking intense.”

Donghyuck’s lips curved into the faintest, breathless smile, his forehead pressed to Mark’s. “Yeah?” he whispered back, already pulling him in for another.

Donghyuck laughed into his mouth, breathless and reckless. Mark groaned low in his throat as his lips dragged away from Donghyuck’s mouth, traveling down his jaw until they found the warm skin of his neck. He pressed there, hot and desperate, kissing hard enough to leave the faintest mark. Donghyuck’s breath hitched immediately, his body going pliant even as his fingers dug into Mark’s shoulders.

“Hyung,” Donghyuck whimpered, head tilting instinctively to give him more space. The sound alone had Mark clutching him tighter, mouth moving hungrily along the curve of his throat, teeth scraping just enough to make him shiver.

“Fuck,” Mark muttered against his skin, lips moving lower, tasting the faint salt of sweat and cologne. The hand on Donghyuck’s waist gripped tighter, dragging him down harder against his lap as his mouth kept working, relentlessly, kissing and biting at his neck until the younger let out a broken sound.

Donghyuck tilted his head, eyes glinting with mischief even through the haze of need. “There’s a lot more I can show you,” His words were a promise, a dare, one that made Mark’s stomach flip and his pulse quicken.

Mark’s grip on his waist tightened, nails almost digging in. “Yeah?” he muttered, lips ghosting against Donghyuck’s jaw.

Donghyuck pulled back just enough to breathe, his chest heaving, and then he smirked again, wicked and beautiful. “I’ll make your worst fantasies come true, hyung.”

For a beat, Mark just stared at him, no witty retort forming, only the sound of their ragged breaths filling the room. His silence made Donghyuck laugh softly, shaking his head. “Don’t tell me you don’t have any,” he teased, voice low and sinful.

Mark groaned and let his head fall back against the headboard, “I haven’t really given it a thought.” His honesty only seemed to amuse Donghyuck more.

“Holy shit,” Donghyuck breathed, grin widening. “You’re serious.” He kissed him again, deep and quick, before pulling back just enough to whisper, “There’s a whole world I can introduce you to.”

Mark almost groaned in frustration at how casually he said it, like it was nothing, like this wasn’t dangerous and destructive. And yet, when Donghyuck kissed him again, he melted into it, clutching him tighter.

Then came the whisper, almost broken against his lips, “Would you like to tie me up, hyung? Do anything you want to me while I beg you to stop?” His voice trembled with need but dripped with provocation. “Call me your little whore?”

Mark froze for half a second, heat flooding his veins so fast it left him dizzy. “Don’t-” he started, but Donghyuck kept going.

“Or,” Donghyuck purred, grinding down harder against him now, their hips meeting in desperate friction that made both of them gasp, “Would you like to fuck me in a skirt and call me your good girl?”

Mark’s breath caught violently, his hands flying to grip Donghyuck’s hips, holding him down as if to stop him, though his body betrayed him with every shallow thrust upward. “You are fucking evil,” he groaned, voice strained, “Don’t put those thoughts in my head.”

Donghyuck laughed, breathless and shaky, his forehead pressing against Mark’s neck as he whimpered softly. His hips didn’t stop moving, grinding against him in a way that had both of them spiraling.

“I hate you so much,” Mark whispered, voice raw, though his hands clutched Donghyuck like he would never let go.

Donghyuck lifted his head, lips swollen, eyes glazed with desire, and smirked weakly, “Yeah?” he whispered, voice nearly breaking.

Mark’s eyes darkened, his jaw tightening, but he still leaned up, dragging Donghyuck back down to him. “Yeah,” he breathed, and then their mouths crashed together again, the kiss messy, desperate, devastating.

Donghyuck whimpered into it, his hands tangling back into Mark’s hair, hips moving against his with no rhythm now, just raw need. Mark kissed him like he wanted to consume him.

The world narrowed to the press of bodies, the heat of friction, the taste of each other’s mouths, the sound of broken gasps and muffled whimpers. Mark’s mind screamed at him to stop, to remember everything he was risking, but his body clung tighter, grinding harder, kissing deeper.

And Donghyuck? Donghyuck let himself fall, drowning in it, whimpering against Mark’s mouth, whispering nonsense promises he would never keep. 

And even when Mark whispered again, “I hate you,” it didn’t stop his mouth from finding Donghyuck’s over and over, as if hating him was the very reason he couldn’t stop.

And neither of them, not for a second, wanted to pull away.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ✈️ɞ˚‧｡⋆

[ track eleven: ricochet ]

The first days in Italy blurred together in a haze of sunlight, sea breeze, and endless family obligations, but Mark and Donghyuck carved out their own hidden rhythm in between the schedules.

Whenever the families moved in groups, touring a vineyard, scouting florists, tasting menus, they found ways to quietly drift apart. Sometimes it was as simple as walking a little slower until they lagged behind the others, sometimes as bold as slipping down a cobblestoned side street until the chatter of the group vanished. The stolen minutes almost always ended the same way, with Mark pushing Donghyuck against the cool surface of some old stone wall, kissing him until both their hearts hammered like they were teenagers caught sneaking out.

When they weren’t hiding from their families, they were slipping away outright. Donghyuck was never subtle about it, his hand would loop through Mark’s wrist, eyes wide with mischief as he whispered some flimsy excuse about needing fresh air. Mark followed every time, no questions asked. The Amalfi coast became theirs to discover, hand in hand, wandering past colorful houses and quiet alleys that smelled faintly of lemons and salt. Donghyuck pouted at every charming storefront and trinket they passed. Mark never let the pout last long, he bought whatever caught Donghyuck’s eyes, watching with an ache in his chest as the younger’s grin lit up brighter than the Italian sun.

Jaemin’s gift, the expensive digital camera, finally found its purpose on those afternoons. Mark had barely touched it in the two years since, but now it rarely left his hands. He captured everything, Donghyuck’s laughter as the sea breeze ruffled his hair, his profile outlined against the pastel sunset, his narrowed eyes when he pretended to pout at Mark’s teasing. The camera’s memory card filled with hundreds of photos, none of the grand villas or scenic coastlines, but all of Donghyuck. Mark didn’t bother to hide it, if Donghyuck teased him for it, he just shrugged and lifted the lens again, murmuring, “Don’t move.”

One morning, they stumbled into a designer’s boutique, an excuse spun about checking fabric samples for the wedding. But Mark had his own ideas. He pulled shirts, jackets, and trousers off racks, piling them into Donghyuck’s arms with quiet insistence that he try them all on. Donghyuck obliged, slipping behind the dressing room curtain, stepping out each time with a different outfit that made Mark’s eyes darken in ways he couldn’t disguise. Halfway through, Donghyuck caught Mark’s wrist and tugged him inside the tiny room, crushing their mouths together between racks of neatly pressed suits.

The nights were no less reckless. The hotel’s pool, closed and silent under the moonlight, became their secret meeting ground. Donghyuck always arrived first, already barefoot and splashing his hands through the water when Mark showed up, sighing at his antics. He always claimed he wouldn’t join, muttering about the risk, but Donghyuck had a way of splattering water across his shirt until he gave in. When Mark finally slipped into the pool, Donghyuck grinned in victory, just before Mark yanked him close and kissed him underwater. The world went quiet except for the thrum of their hearts and the muffled sound of their breaths mingling beneath the surface.

One afternoon, the rest of the families departed for a visit to the florist. Mark claimed a work meeting, Donghyuck muttered something about a university assignment. They both knew they were lying, but no one questioned it until Donghyuck slipped into Mark’s room an hour later, his headache still lingering from too much wine the night before. Instead of demanding anything, he curled into Mark’s arms on the bed and closed his eyes. Mark spoke in low tones about the pressure that weighed on him, the endless demands that came with his name. Donghyuck didn’t offer advice, he simply held tighter, one hand smoothing over Mark’s chest.

There were days when they disappeared to the cliffs, where the rocks jutted out over the sea in dramatic, breathtaking views. Tourists gathered in crowded spots for photos, but Mark always led Donghyuck away to quieter ledges. The thrill of danger, the height, the secrecy, it all mixed together until Donghyuck’s back hit the stone and Mark’s mouth claimed his. They kissed there as the waves crashed below, hidden from sight, the taste of salt and adrenaline clinging to their lips. Donghyuck always laughed after, whispering that one day they would get caught, and Mark always kissed him again, harder, daring fate to prove him right.

They found excuses at every turn. During fabric fittings, Mark pulled Donghyuck close under the guise of adjusting a jacket, his fingers lingering longer than necessary on his collar. At wine tastings, Donghyuck sipped and grimaced before leaning into Mark’s ear with a quiet complaint, making Mark bite back a laugh. Every second was a game of pretending nothing was happening while everything happened all at once beneath the surface.

One night, unable to sleep, they snuck to the balcony of Donghyuck’s room. The air was crisp, scented with the faint perfume of flowers drifting up from the gardens below. They sat close enough that their knees brushed, whispering stories about childhood. Donghyuck’s hand slipped into Mark’s at some point, and neither moved to let go. It wasn’t about kissing then, it was about the unbearable sweetness of silence shared.

Another morning, they sneaked away early to a small café tucked in the corner of a quiet piazza. Donghyuck had pointed at the glass case of pastries with sparkling eyes, pouting until Mark ordered them all. They sat in the corner with cappuccinos and far too many croissants, sugar dusting Donghyuck’s lips. Mark had leaned across the table, stealing a kiss under the guise of wiping a crumb from his mouth. 

The longer the trip went on, the bolder they became. A stolen glance here, a brush of fingers under a table there. They learned to disguise their disappearances, to return with casual smiles, to excuse their absence with effortless lies. But behind every carefully constructed façade was the truth, Italy had become theirs. The streets, the cliffs, the boutiques, the balconies, the pool, all carried the imprint of their secret.

And through it all, Mark’s camera kept clicking. Even when Donghyuck rolled his eyes and groaned, “Hyung, stop,” Mark just smiled and captured another frame. Later, when he looked through the photos, he realized there wasn’t a single shot of the landscapes, the cathedrals, or the sea. 

Just Donghyuck. Always Donghyuck.

The villa had arranged for a private wine-tasting at a centuries-old vineyard. Rows of grapes shimmered in the late sun as the families were led into a rustic stone hall, where glasses of ruby reds and golden whites lined long oak tables. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves except Mark, whose attention was fixed far too intently on Donghyuck.

Donghyuck had been seated between Jaemin and Jeno, a position Mark already resented. When the sommelier poured the next glass, Jaemin nudged his with a grin, offering it to Donghyuck. “Just one sip,” he teased, swirling the wine. Donghyuck pouted, hesitated, then leaned forward obediently. The sip was small, but enough to stain his lips a soft shade darker, and Jaemin leaned in close to brush his thumb across the corner of Donghyuck’s mouth, laughing as though it were nothing. Donghyuck laughed back, unbothered, but Mark felt something sharp coil tight in his stomach.

He said nothing at first, fingers clenched white around the stem of his glass. The evening pressed on, but Mark’s mind had blurred into a haze, watching the ease between them, the careless brush of Jaemin’s hand on Donghyuck’s arm. Finally, his voice cut through, “Donghyuck, you’re sick?” His tone was soft, but it carried enough weight to make the table pause.

Donghyuck blinked at him, “What?”

“You look like you’re burning up,” Mark continued smoothly, tilting his head, “Your face is flushed. Maybe it’s not a good idea to stay here.” Concern immediately rippled through the family, all eyes turning toward Donghyuck. He shifted awkwardly, trying to laugh it off, but Mark was already leaning in, hand brushing his wrist with mock gentleness. “I’ll take him back,” he offered, “No point pushing it if he’s not well.”

No one questioned it. Concern, after all, was easier to accept than suspicion. Within minutes, Mark had ushered Donghyuck toward the car, keys jingling in his hand. The drive back was suffocating in its silence, Mark’s knuckles gripping the wheel, Donghyuck pressed against the seat, sneaking glances but wisely saying nothing.

The moment they reached the resort, Mark didn’t waste a second. He slammed the door shut behind them, grabbed Donghyuck by the wrist, and pushed him against the wall of the dimly lit hallway. His mouth crushed against Donghyuck’s in a kiss so urgent it made Donghyuck gasp, half a laugh caught in his throat.

When Mark pulled back, breathing roughly, Donghyuck smirked, eyes sparkling even in the shadow. “Jealousy is a surprising trait for a man like you, hyung.” 

Mark’s chest rose and fell, his forehead pressed to Donghyuck’s temple, “I didn’t know I was a jealous man either but you bring out the worst in me.” And with that, his mouth found Donghyuck’s again, desperate and punishing, as though he could kiss away the image of Jaemin’s thumb against Donghyuck’s lips.

The tension carried with them from the hallway all the way into the bedroom, the heavy click of the lock sounding like the final seal on Mark’s restraint. He didn’t wait for Donghyuck to find his footing, he shoved him back until the edge of the bed caught behind his knees, forcing him to collapse onto the mattress. The look on Donghyuck’s face was a blend of surprise and exhilaration.

Mark leaned down, his voice dropping to a low whisper against the shell of Donghyuck’s ear, every syllable vibrating with restrained hunger. “You said you would let me tie you up, baby. Yeah?” His words dragged like velvet over steel, and Donghyuck’s head tipped back against the pillow, hazy eyes dark with anticipation. A shaky nod was all he could manage, his breath catching as the reality of the moment consumed him.

Mark wasted no time. He unbuckled his leather belt with a single sharp tug, the sound slicing through the silence. Threading it through the slats of the headboard, he guided Donghyuck’s wrists up and bound them tight, the supple leather holding him in place. Donghyuck shifted experimentally, tugging at the restraint, the helplessness pulling a whimper from his throat that only deepened Mark’s smirk.

Leaning down, Mark pressed his lips to Donghyuck’s throat, kissing and biting along the soft curve until Donghyuck was arching into the contact, soft moans spilling like confessions. Mark’s hands worked with patience, unbuttoning, tugging, sliding away every layer of clothing until Donghyuck lay bare beneath him, flushed and trembling. Mark murmured against his skin, dragging his mouth lower as Donghyuck’s pleas grew breathier, more desperate, his body writhing against the sheets as though he could pull Mark closer with sheer will.

When Mark finally lifted himself, he hovered just above Donghyuck’s face. Their mouths were barely a breath apart, Donghyuck straining upward with parted lips, desperate for the kiss, but Mark’s smirk deepened. He pulled back just enough, savoring the frustrated sound that escaped from Donghyuck’s chest. “Not yet,” he teased. 

Slowly, Mark stood. His hands moved to his own shirt, dragging the buttons open one by one, every flick of fabric exposing more skin to Donghyuck’s wide, desperate gaze. Donghyuck muttered soft, incoherent, “Please, hurry, hyung” but Mark only took his time, sliding his shirt off his shoulders, unfastening his pants with infuriating leisure. Every motion was for show, a performance designed to unravel the boy tied helpless to the bed.

When Mark was finally stripped down, he didn’t climb onto the mattress. Instead, he lowered himself into the chair by the corner of the room, settling with legs spread, eyes locked on Donghyuck’s trembling body displayed against the sheets. Confusion flickered across Donghyuck’s features, his lips parting. “Hyung?” His voice was small, uncertain, tethered to both frustration and want.

And Mark only leaned back in the chair, watching him. “Patience, baby,” His voice was silk over fire.

“You cannot play tricks on me that I taught you in the first place,” Donghyuck whispered, trying to free himself from the restraints. 

“Really?” Mark said condescendingly. He leaned back in the chair, eyes never leaving Donghyuck’s flushed, restrained form. His hand drifted over his dick, slow and teasing, while Donghyuck’s wrists strained against the leather. Every motion Mark made made Donghyuck gasp and shiver. His body ached with need, every nerve on fire, and all he could do was watch, whimpering quietly, utterly helpless.

“You know,” Mark murmured, “I warned you to stay away from Jaemin as much as possible. And yet look at you,” his hand moved more boldly, slick movements dragging over his length, slow teasing that made Donghyuck squirm against the restraints, hips jerking involuntarily.

Donghyuck tried to speak, to protest, to say something, anything, but his voice came out as soft, stuttering whimpers. “Hyung.. please stop.. I-” He broke off, gasping as Mark’s thumb circled teasingly, dragging heat straight to his own desperation.

Mark smirked, enjoying every second of Donghyuck’s helplessness. “Stop? Oh no, baby. You’re too easy like this. Look at you, helpless, needy, whining for me while I-” He dipped his head, sucking a sharp breath through his teeth as he rubbed his hand against his cock faster, “While I get off right in front of you, knowing you can’t do a thing about it.”

Donghyuck’s thighs pressed harder into the mattress, heart hammering painfully. “Hyung I’m gonna-” His words dissolved into a strained moan, his movements desperate, trying to chase the relief he couldn’t reach.

Mark’s lips curved into a wicked smirk. “Look at you, whining for me. So greedy, so desperate, and you can’t do a damn thing about it.” His thumb circled slowly, dragging heat right to the edge. 

Donghyuck cried out, the sound sharp and broken, eyes glossy, body shivering. “Hyung.. oh god, please.” His hips pressed helplessly against the bed, every nerve screaming and whimper tearing through the quiet room.

Mark’s fingers moved faster, almost cruel with his breath hitching and hips snapping just enough to push him over the edge. “That’s it, baby, look at you.” His hand clenched and stroked, every movement bringing him closer, until a shudder ran through his body, and he came with a low, ragged groan, trembling as he lost himself completely.

Mark collapsed slightly, leaning back, still watching Donghyuck with a dark, triumphant glint in his eyes. His breathing was heavy, uneven, fingers slick, body still trembling with the aftershocks of his climax. “See what you do to me, baby?” he murmured finally. “You’re a problem, a beautiful, insatiable problem.”

Mark finally rose from the chair, striding over the bed until he was above Donghyuck. He leaned down, chest brushing against his, voice low and teasing, “Do you want me to touch you, baby?”

Donghyuck didn’t even hesitate. His head tilted up slightly, lips parting, eyes wide and desperate, and he nodded immediately, obedient and eager like a puppy. 

Mark’s hand traced lightly over Donghyuck’s stomach, fingertips drifting over his chest, teasing the sensitive swell of his nipples. He let his fingers wander down to the tops of Donghyuck’s thighs, teasing the heat there without crossing the line. Every brush of skin made Donghyuck gasp, whimper, his body straining against the restraints. His hands twisted futilely, clutching at the sheets, chest rising rapidly.

“Hyung, please, please touch me,”Donghyuck's voice cracked, small tears brimming in his eyes.

Mark smirked, “I’m touching you, stupid whore.” The words were clipped, teasing, almost cruel, but the heat behind them made Donghyuck shiver violently, helpless and desperate.

For a moment, Mark’s mind drifted back to a month ago. Mark Lee, the same man who had been careful, disciplined, restrained, could never have imagined that he had all these kinks hidden beneath the surface. Sex with other people, even with his fiancé, had been good, pleasurable even, but it had always been too plain, too safe. Never daring or this consuming. This was a whole different world, one that lit a fire in him he hadn’t known existed, a dangerous, intoxicating fire that now burned in sync with the ache in his stomach and the whimpers beneath him. 

He shook himself slightly, back to the present, watching Donghyuck’s chest heave. “Sunshine, do you want my fingers?” he asked, letting the question hang in the air.

Donghyuck’s breath hitched, head tilting, lips trembling. “Yes, Yes, please, please hyung, please,” His voice was small, desperate, needy. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes as his hips pressed upward, straining toward the contact he could not reach, every inch of him aching for Mark’s touch.

Mark smiled, letting his fingers trace teasing patterns along Donghyuck’s thighs and stomach again, just out of reach of the ultimate place he wanted, “I think we should wait a little more.”

Donghyuck whimpered, small, pitiful sounds spilling from him as he squirmed against the restraints, chest rising and falling with every breath. “Hyung, I can’t, please, I need-”

Mark leaned down, lips brushing against Donghyuck’s temple, whispering in a low, dangerous tone. “I know you do, baby. But you’re going to earn it.”

Donghyuck’s hands clawed at the bed, hips lifting involuntarily. “Hyung, please, I can’t.. I’m-” His voice broke into a whine, raw and pitiful, utterly helpless under Mark’s gaze.

Mark’s fingers trailed lower again, teasing along the thighs, tracing the line of heart near his hole. Donghyuck gasped sharply, tears slipping freely now, “Hyung, please, I need your fingers, I’ll be good, I’ll do anything.”

Mark’s smirk was sharp, “Good? You’re already good, just like this, whining and trembling for me, letting me decide what you get. You’re perfect, baby.”

Donghyuck’s whimper grew louder, almost desperate, as he rocked slightly against the bed, hips jerking, “H yung-please, I am beggin-”

Mark tilted his head, watching him fall apart. His hand came up suddenly, two fingers sliding between Donghyuck’s parted lips, “I said have patience,” he murmured, “But you’re such a slut, you don’t understand anything, do you?”

Donghyuck let out a muffled whimper around Mark’s fingers, tears spilling harder now as he tried to suck them, the salt of his tears mixing with the taste of Mark’s skin. His cheeks hollowed as he sucked obediently, his eyes glassy and wet, looking up at Mark like a lost thing.

Mark chuckled low in his throat, a sound almost disbelieving, almost fond. “What have you turned me into, baby,” he murmured, thumb brushing the corner of Donghyuck’s mouth while his fingers stayed lodged against his tongue. The sight of Donghyuck like this lit a fire in Mark’s stomach that was nothing like anything he had ever known before.

Donghyuck tried to form words around Mark’s fingers, muffled sounds of “please” and “hyung” slipping out, but Mark just pressed his fingers deeper until Donghyuck gagged softly and stilled, whimpering again. “Shut up,” Mark said quietly, his voice low and steady. “Next time you want to come, or even be able to speak, don’t make me jealous, yeah?”

Donghyuck’s eyes fluttered closed, his chest heaving, and he nodded weakly around Mark’s fingers, his breath hitching as he sucked them again like an apology. Mark’s gaze lingered on him for a long, slow moment, his free hand smoothing a tear off Donghyuck’s cheek as he kept his fingers in his mouth. 

Mark pulled his fingers slowly from Donghyuck’s mouth, watching the way his lips quivered and his cheeks were streaked with tears. Donghyuck’s body trembled violently, chest heaving, and he let out a strangled, incoherent whimper, words tumbling out in messy, jumbled fragments. 

Mark pressed two fingers to the heat between Donghyuck’s legs, teasing the entrance for just a moment, dragging a slow shiver through him. Donghyuck let out a strangled whine, body arching, tears blurring his vision. Mark didn’t say a word. With careful precision, he slid his two fingers inside Donghyuck who gasped loudly with eyes squeezed shut and teeth digging into his lower lip. 

Mark kept his hand steady, holding him in place, letting him ride the sensation without any release yet, his other hand brushing stray strands of hair from Donghyuck’s face. “You wanted it, baby,” he whispered, “Now you’re getting it.”

He slowly added a third finger, pushing them in deeper and curling them just slightly, testing the limits. Donghyuck’s breath hitched violently, tears streaming down his cheeks, and his body shook, “Hyung, too much.. I-I can’t-please, stop,” His words tumbled over each other in a desperate, broken mess. 

Mark’s chuckle vibrated low in his chest, “First, you begged me to do something, baby. And now you’re begging me to stop?” He moved his fingers faster, harder, filling him up completely, “You don’t get to say no, not when you asked for it.”

Donghyuck gasped, hips bucking violently, shaking against the bed. “Please, please, let me-me-come,” His sobs were almost incoherent, and the intensity of it made him completely undone.

Mark leaned down, pressing his lips against Donghyuck’s temple and neck. “You can come, baby, you can, but you’re not done yet.” He moved his fingers faster, curling them in ways that made Donghyuck scream and sob uncontrollably as he had his first orgasm.

Donghyuck arched, body convulsing, tears streaming down his face, “N-No more, hyu-hyung,” His words barely formed, replaced by desperate, broken sobs and gasps.

Mark didn’t listen. He held him, controlling the pace, dragging him through wave after wave of climax. Donghyuck’s body shook violently, hands clawing at the sheets, breath ragged, tears soaking his cheeks.

“You’re doing so well, baby,” Mark murmured, voice low and dangerous, “Shaking and crying, but I think you can take another.” His fingers didn’t stop, continuing their precise, torturous movements, driving Donghyuck higher, overwhelming him completely.

Donghyuck cried out again, voice breaking, body trembling uncontrollably, “Hy-Hyung please stop.” But Mark only leaned closer, whispering, “You can have another, baby. One more. And you’re going to love it.”

His words sent Donghyuck spiraling into a third climax, shaking, sobbing, completely spent, crying in a mix of pleasure and desperation. His head fell back, tears streaking down, body convulsing and trembling, sobs breaking through in raw, incoherent bursts. 

Mark’s fingers finally stilled, letting Donghyuck tremble against the bed, chest heaving, lips quivering, tears still streaking down his face. He leaned closer, pressing a soft kiss to the side of Donghyuck’s temple, then along his cheek, murmuring, “You’re so good, baby, so fucking good for me.

Slowly, he untied the leather belt from the headboard, giving Donghyuck his freedom. The moment his arms were released, Donghyuck sagged completely, leaning into Mark’s chest, exhausted and shaking, as if he could collapse entirely into him. Mark wrapped his arms around him, holding him close, soft and protective.

“You’ve been amazing, sunshine,” Mark whispered, voice low and steady, pressing another soft kiss to the top of Donghyuck’s head. 

Donghyuck nuzzled into him, still shaky and wet-eyed, letting Mark guide him gently in his arms. He clung to Mark, body still trembling from the overwhelming releases, hair sticking to his damp forehead, lips parted in soft whimpers. Mark carried him like he weighed nothing, down to the bathroom.

He set the water running in the bathtub, warm and inviting, steam curling into the room. As the bath filled, Mark softly massaged his body and washed it with ease. When it had been what felt like ten minutes, Donghyuck slumped against Mark’s chest, resting his head just below his chin, breathing in his scent, trembling slightly. “Hyung, what are we?” he whispered, voice small, almost shy amidst the vulnerability.

Mark didn’t answer immediately. He simply held him, rubbing soothing circles along his back as the warmth of the bath enveloped them. The silence stretched heavy, filled with unspoken truths that needed no words.

Finally, Donghyuck turned slightly to look at him, soft lips trembling, “I don’t want to stop, hyung,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper, raw with need and confession, letting himself be vulnerable, trusting Mark completely.

Mark pressed his forehead gently against Donghyuck’s temple, “Me neither, sunshine.” His hands slid around Donghyuck, pulling him close, holding him in the warmth of their shared heartbeat.

Then Mark leaned down, capturing his lips in a tender kiss. Donghyuck melted into it as he let himself be cradled and soothed. Mark’s hands continued to trace gentle patterns over his back, his fingers tangling in Donghyuck’s damp hair, every movement soft and possessive.

They both knew that eventually, they would have to stop.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ✈️ɞ˚‧｡⋆

[ track twelve: good luck, babe! ]

Amid the whirlwind of wedding preparations, Mark and Donghyuck found tiny ways to steal moments for themselves. In long lunches filled with small talk about table settings or catering choices, their attention would drift elsewhere. Mark would send a song link with a line highlighted and Donghyuck would reply almost instantly, a lyric in return that made Mark smirk, sitting stiffly in a chair while the rest of the family debated florals.

Texts became their secret language. During planning meetings, they would exchange snippets, small jokes, flirty comments, or provocative innuendos, each buzz of the phone a thrill. Donghyuck would hide his screen under the table, pretending to adjust his napkin while Mark’s fingers flew over his phone, crafting the perfect teasing reply. The tension simmered silently around them.

Jeno had been trying to lighten the mood during one rehearsal, stepping closer to Mark with a playful kiss on the cheek as a joke. Donghyuck had noticed immediately, jaw tightening, pulse spiking. Later that evening, Mark found himself tied up and blindfolded, Donghyuck’s fingers trailing over him as he rode him. And yet, when Donghyuck finally freed him, Mark hadn’t wasted a second. He pushed Donghyuck back onto the mattress, climbing over him with a sly grin and taking his revenge.

Outside these stolen moments, they cultivated tension in subtler ways. Fingertips would brush “accidentally” across a hand during fittings. Soft glances would linger in the middle of wedding planning discussions. Every shared lyric, every quick text, became a declaration of possession and longing, a private world spinning alongside the very public chaos of the wedding. 

Mark’s full-day excursions with Jeno, handling logistical errands or vendor meetings, left Donghyuck simmering with barely-contained jealousy. By the time Mark returned, he was greeted by Donghyuck in a casual skirt, hair slightly messy, eyes alight with mischief. Donghyuck’s body language was a silent invitation. Mark stepped in, chest tightening at the mere sight, and without a word, Donghyuck allowed him to take over completely.

Late-night talks often grew intimate, crossing any border into confessions, desires, and quiet teasing. Donghyuck would whisper about stress about graduation, his fingers brushing Mark’s hair, and Mark would respond with his own exhaustion. The room would seem to shrink, closing in around the pair, drawing them together in shared secrets and soft, charged glances.

During floral selection one afternoon, Mark plucked a single rose from a display and placed it in Donghyuck’s lap, smirking slightly when Donghyuck’s eyebrows shot up. “It suits you,” he murmured, voice low enough for only Donghyuck to catch. The youngerhad tucked it behind his ear, letting the faint scent linger in his hair, his chest tightening as a small, secret smile passed his lips. Around them, everyone else debated trivial details, unaware. 

A quiet evening on the villa terrace saw them wander out while others were busy indoors. Sunset painted the sea and hills in amber and gold, but neither cared about the view. Their hands found each other, fingers lacing naturally, and a slow kiss brushed against lips in a shadowed corner, hidden by the setting sun. 

Donghyuck had mastered playful provocation. He would send a lyric mid-meeting that was harmless to anyone else but loaded with meaning for Mark. Mark, perfectly aware, would reply with a line referencing their nights together, forcing a blush across Donghyuck’s cheeks. 

And yet they never addressed the elephant in the room. The wedding loomed just one day away, and still neither of them dared to give voice to what had been building between them.

They stole hours together in shadows and corners, whispering, kissing, burning themselves into memories they knew might not last, and yet when morning came, they slipped back into their roles as if nothing had happened. It was easier, safer, to pretend this was temporary, a story written in invisible ink that would fade the moment Mark stood at the altar.

And so they let it hang unspoken, the truth pressing at their ribs, as if acknowledging it would make the end unbearable.

Both of them knew, in the pit of their stomachs, that this couldn’t last beyond the ceremony, that once vows were spoken and champagne was poured, the fragile world they had built would collapse. Still, they acted like boys drunk on a secret, addicted to the thrill of sneaking glances when no one was looking, addicted to lips that met in the dark when the villa slept. They didn’t dare to name the relationship since it was safer to let it remain undefined, like a fever they could pretend would break on its own. 

And so they carried on, reckless and desperate, hearts colliding in silence, as though by never addressing it they could delay the inevitable a little longer.

The knock came so softly that for a moment Mark thought he had imagined it. 

But when he pulled open the door, Donghyuck stood there, barefoot, his hair slightly mussed from bed. “Hi,” he whispered. 

Mark swallowed, every muscle going tense, but he managed to breathe back a quiet, “Hi.”

Donghyuck stepped in without waiting for permission, closing the door gently behind him. The air in the room shifted instantly, thick with something neither of them needed to name. They looked at each other, both knowing and afraid.. And then Donghyuck leaned in and kissed him, slow at first, tentative, before the hunger poured through and deepened it. Mark clutched his shoulders, but after a moment he broke away, forehead pressing against Donghyuck’s. “Hyuckie, tomorrow-” he started, voice tight with the weight of it all.

Donghyuck silenced him with a hand against his mouth, shaking his head. His palm was warm, trembling just a little. “There is no tomorrow, Mark,” he whispered, voice steady but eyes shining with something that could break them both. “For tonight, there is no tomorrow.” And then he kissed him again, deeply this time, pulling him in with an urgency that felt like desperation. Mark didn’t resist, he couldn’t. He let himself fall.

Their lips pressed and parted, breath tangling between them as they stumbled back toward the bed. Mark’s hands roamed over Donghyuck’s waist, under the loose shirt he had thrown on, fingers memorizing every line and warmth of skin. Donghyuck tugged at Mark’s own shirt until it was bunched at his chest, and Mark lifted his arms so it could be tossed aside, forgotten. The moonlight leaking through the curtains painted them both in pale silver.

Donghyuck’s fingers trailed lower, fumbling at the button of Mark’s pants, but Mark caught his wrists gently. “Slow,” he murmured against his lips, almost pleading, as though speed would make it all too fleeting. Donghyuck blinked up at him, then nodded, a shaky smile flickering before he kissed him again, softer this time. They undressed each other slowly, piece by piece, like unwrapping something too precious to rush. Every brush of skin sent sparks across their nerves, every sigh sank deeper into the night.

When they were bare, Mark pushed Donghyuck gently onto the mattress, climbing over him but not yet moving further. He just looked at him, at the flush high on his cheeks, at the way his chest rose and fell unevenly, at the trust in his eyes. It undid him more than anything could. Reaching for the lube, Mark squeezed some onto his fingers, warming it between his hands before pushing them in his hole. His movements were careful, each slow circle and gentle push met with soft sounds from Donghyuck that made Mark’s heart ache.

Donghyuck clung to him as the first finger slid in, a whimper muffled against Mark’s shoulder. “Shh,” Mark whispered, kissing his temple, his jaw, the corner of his mouth. “I got you.” Another finger followed, moving with the same rhythm, meant only to soothe. Donghyuck’s hands threaded through his hair, pulling him closer, and Mark kissed him again, swallowing his gasps as if they could live off each other’s breath.

By the time Mark eased into him, the world outside no longer existed. Donghyuck’s legs wrapped around him, his nails scratching faint lines into Mark’s back as he arched up, lips parting in soundless need. Mark held his hand, their fingers lacing tight, grounding them both as he pushed in slowly, carefully, his forehead pressed to Donghyuck’s. They stayed still for a long moment, just breathing, trembling together, until it felt like their hearts beat in the same rhythm.

Mark kissed Donghyuck’s mouth, his throat, his collarbone, as if trying to claim every inch before time stole it away. 

Donghyuck met each thrust with soft gasps and whispered pleas, holding Mark as if to remind him that this was real and that it was theirs, no matter how temporary. Their hands never unclasped, their fingers stayed entwined, the anchor they both clung to.

Mark moved with care, his free hand brushing tears from Donghyuck’s cheek even as he kissed him through them. The more they moved, the deeper it sank in, that this wasn’t just bodies, it was something heavier, something neither of them dared to say.

When the release finally came, it was shattering. Mark held him close as Donghyuck trembled, whispering his name like it was the only prayer he knew. And even as he came undone himself, Mark kept kissing him, his lips, his cheeks, his eyelids, like he could keep him whole through sheer will. 

Afterward, they stayed tangled together, Mark’s chest pressed to Donghyuck’s back, fingers still intertwined against the sheets. 

The clock on the nightstand had struck five a.m., its hands glinting faintly in the soft spill of moonlight that hadn’t yet given way to dawn. They had been awake for the past three hours, tangled up in the sheets, clutching each other so close that the press of skin to skin felt like the only proof they existed. No words had passed between them in that time. Only the rise and fall of Mark’s chest under Donghyuck’s cheek, the slide of fingers idly tracing the back of Mark’s hand, and the way their hearts seemed to beat too loud and fast, in unison.

And then, finally, Donghyuck shifted, pressing his mouth right against Mark’s chest, and whispered into the quiet, “I love you, Mark Lee.”

The words fell like stones into a still pond, reverberating through Mark’s ribs, hitting him with the force of something he had wanted to hear and feared at the same time. His chest heaved, as if breathing had suddenly become impossible, and it ached in a way that felt unbearable.

Donghyuck said it again, softer but firmer this time, his lips brushing against Mark’s skin with every syllable. “I love you.” And then again, like he wanted to make sure Mark heard it carved into his bones. “I love you.” By the fourth time, his voice wavered, but he still forced it out, a shaky, stubborn, desperate, “I love you, Mark Lee.”

Mark couldn’t lie there anymore. He sat up abruptly, the sheets slipping down his body, his hands bracing on his knees like he needed the anchor. Donghyuck pushed up too, mirroring him on the bed, his messy hair falling into his eyes, his face raw with emotion, as if the words had stripped him bare. They stared at each other, the silence pressing down harder now that the truth had been spoken.

“Hyuckie,” Mark breathed, his voice hoarse, breaking on the single name. It held so much pleading and warning but Donghyuck shook his head, his lips trembling as he tried to gather himself, trying to string together everything his heart was screaming.

“I fell in love with you when I wasn’t supposed to,” Donghyuck began, his voice so soft it almost broke in the middle. His hands fidgeted in his lap, clutching at the sheets as if they were the only thing holding him together. “At first, I told myself it was nothing. Just a small crush. Just me being stupid and reckless, like I always am. I thought if I ignored it, it would go away. But it didn’t. It only got louder. Every time you looked at me, every time you spoke to me, it felt like my heart was being rewired into something I couldn’t recognize anymore.”

His eyes lifted to Mark’s, wet and glimmering with the effort of keeping himself steady. “I noticed the way you smiled at me, differently than you did at anyone else. It wasn’t big or showy, it was quiet, almost private, like it belonged to me. You listened to me when I rambled even though we shared different views. You entertained all my antics and even participated in them. Do you even know how rare that is? To be seen like that? To be known? It made me fall deeper, without even meaning to, without even realizing until it was too late. And by then, it was already impossible to turn back.”

He let out a shaky laugh, more broken than amused, and wiped roughly at his cheek though the tears only kept falling. “And then you kissed me. And everything after that, I couldn’t stop. I didn’t even want to stop. Every second I spent with you made me fall harder, and I hated myself for it, but I couldn’t help it. I fell in love with you, Mark. Not with the heir everyone bows down to, not with the perfect fiancé everyone wants you to be. Just you. Just the way you are when it’s only me and you.”

Mark’s throat tightened until it hurt, his lips parting as though to speak, but nothing came out. He could only whisper again, “Hyuck,” as if the name itself was a prayer he couldn’t finish.

Donghyuck’s voice broke then, cracking mid-sentence, his tears finally spilling, streaking hot and helpless down his cheeks. “Mark hyung, please cancel the wedding. Please. Don’t marry him. Don’t do this.” His hands clutched at the sheets, curling them into fists like he could wring a different answer out of the universe itself, “Please don’t break my heart.”

Mark’s own voice cracked as he shook his head, unable to stop the tears pricking at his eyes. “I can’t.” His chest rose sharply with the weight of it, “Hyuck, I can’t.”

“You can,” Donghyuck pleaded, his voice breaking into a sob, his tears falling freely now, “You can, hyung. I am begging you, I am on my knees in front of you, please don’t do this. Please don’t throw me away. Please don’t marry someone you don’t love.” His hand reached out, trembling, but he didn’t dare touch Mark, just hovered in the air like he was afraid Mark might shatter if he did.

Mark looked down, his eyes full but refusing to meet Donghyuck’s. His voice was barely more than a whisper, raw and gutted. “I can’t, Hyuck. There’s too much weighing on this marriage. My family, too many people. Too much, everything.”

Donghyuck’s voice rose, sharp and broken, his tears choking him. “What even is this marriage if there is no love, Mark? Is there love? Is there love while I am in your bed, while you hold me like I’m the only thing keeping you alive? Is there love when you sleep with your fiancé’s brother?”

Mark flinched as though the words had struck him across the face, his breath shaking. “Hyuck, please,” he whispered, his voice collapsing under the weight of his shame and longing.

“No, hyung,” Donghyuck said, shaking his head fiercely through his tears, his voice hoarse and furious with heartbreak, “Please. I am asking you for the last time. Cancel the wedding. Choose me.” His hands were trembling as he reached for Mark’s, squeezing them so tight it almost hurt, “Just choose me.”

Mark’s eyes darted away as he couldn’t look at him. He stared at the floor, his tears dripping silently, and whispered, “I can’t.” The words cracked in the air like glass breaking, final, irreversible.

Donghyuck’s body stilled, the hope draining out of his expression until it was hollow, empty. He let go of Mark’s hands, slowly, as though prying himself apart cost him his soul. He stood from the bed on shaking legs, pulling on his pajama pants, grabbing his t-shirt from the floor. He didn’t look at Mark as he moved toward the door. But before he opened it, he paused, his hand on the handle, his shoulders stiff with the effort not to collapse. 

His voice was soft, broken, the final nail hammered into the coffin of their night, “You broke my heart, Mark Lee.”

⋆｡‧˚ʚ✈️ɞ˚‧｡⋆

[ track thirteen: creepin’ ]

Mark hadn’t slept a blink on the night of his wedding.

His body lay heavy against the mattress, his mind restless, replaying Donghyuck’s words over and over until they no longer felt like sentences but like echoes etched into his bones. Each syllable rattled inside his head like a bell that refused to stop ringing. By the time his alarm blared at eight in the morning, his eyes were raw and burning, his chest hollowed out by dread. He slammed his hand against the clock and sent it clattering across the room until it shattered, shards scattering on the floor. 

For a moment, he pressed his face into the pillow as if he could suffocate the day into silence. But the shrill tone of his phone alarm filled the air seconds later, and eventually, with trembling hands, he forced himself upright.

He brushed his teeth on autopilot, his reflection being a  pale stranger staring back at him. His shirt felt too stiff as he buttoned it, his throat too dry to swallow properly. There was no room in his chest for air, let alone for speech. Yet when he stepped into the hallway, determined to at least pretend he was capable of carrying this day, his body stopped mid-step. 

Donghyuck was there, just a few feet away, entering the lounge at the same time. His head was lowered, his posture tense, and Mark’s chest ached so violently he thought he might fall. Every fiber in his body screamed to call his name, to force out a laugh, to smile like nothing had happened, like they weren’t bleeding beneath their clothes. But instead, Mark tightened his jaw and walked stiffly forward, swallowing down the urge until it tasted like bile in his throat.

The moment he entered the lounge, the atmosphere wrapped around him like suffocating smoke. All the family members, both from his side and Donghyuck’s, stood scattered in the room, forming a strange, fractured circle. No one spoke or even moved. The air was thick with something unsaid, and Mark felt his stomach churn. The only person seated was Jeno, perched on the armchair, his jaw tight as if he had been holding something in for far too long. Mark’s pulse thudded in his ears as his eyes darted around, searching for some clue, but all he found were strained expressions, glances exchanged like knives, and silence heavy enough to crush him.

Donghyuck stood too, his arms folded awkwardly across his chest, his eyes darting anywhere but toward Mark. The avoidance was sharper than a blade, yet Mark understood it as he didn’t dare look at him either, not with everyone gathered. 

His throat scraped raw when he finally forced out words, voice hoarse. “Why is everyone standing here like this? Don’t we have to rush for the ceremony?” He tried to sound impatient, matter-of-fact, but the tremor in his tone betrayed him.

For what felt like hours, no one answered. The silence pressed heavier, folding the room into itself. Mark’s hands itched at his sides, the weight of dozens of eyes settling on him until he thought he might combust under their scrutiny. His heart pounded against his ribs as if begging for release, and still no one spoke. It wasn’t until his mother finally inhaled and spoke. 

“The wedding,” she said, her voice colder than he had ever heard it, “will only happen after you tell us why Jaemin spotted Donghyuck coming out of your room half-naked at five in the morning.” Her words cut through the air with such precision that Mark physically flinched, as though they had struck his skin. His entire body went rigid, heat rushing to his face, shame crawling over his shoulders like a cloak he couldn’t tear off.

And in that moment, against every instinct and every warning inside them, Mark’s gaze finally met Donghyuck’s. For a split second, just a breath, their eyes locked. All of it was there in that glance, the fear, the guilt, the tenderness that had no place in this room. But as quickly as it came, it vanished, both of them snapping their focus back toward their family, masks barely holding, their hearts crashing against the truth that could no longer be hidden.

Mark’s throat tightened as he stood there, frozen in the middle of the room. The accusation still hung in the air like smoke after a fire, suffocating. His lips parted as if to form an answer, but nothing came. Across from him, Donghyuck’s shoulders quivered ever so slightly, his gaze still fixed on the ground. Both of them seemed to teeter on the edge of speech, searching for words that could undo what was already irreparably done. Yet all that filled the air was the sound of their own heartbeats, the silence stretching so unbearably that it seemed to press against the walls.

Finally, it was Donghyuck’s father who broke it. “We’re asking you a question,” he said, his eyes darting between the two of them, “To you both. Tell us-” he paused, as if steadying himself against the enormity of what he was about to hear, “Is there something going on between you?” The room seemed to contract around the words, the family members holding their breath as though they already knew the answer and dreaded it.

Mark’s lips trembled, shame running hot through his veins like a fever. He couldn’t bring himself to look at anyone, not his parents, not Donghyuck’s family, not even Jeno. His voice came out soft, nearly a whisper, heavy with defeat. “Yes,” he admitted, the single word shattering whatever fragile illusion might have remained. 

A chorus of sighs filled the space, some sharp, others slow, each carrying their own shades of stress and disbelief. Mark could hear the shuffling of feet and the way Leean and Jaemin were muttering under their breath. But above all, there was silence, thick, stunned, devastating silence. It was the kind of silence that rang louder than shouting ever could, that carried with it the full weight of disappointment, betrayal, and grief. Mark lowered his eyes, unable to withstand the enormity of it. Donghyuck, beside him, was motionless, his knuckles white where his fingers dug into his arms.

The silence stretched until it threatened to break them. And then Jeno stood. His movement cut through the stillness like a blade, the scrape of the chair against the floor ringing harsh in Mark’s ears. His face was unreadable at first, but his voice, when it came, was thick with betrayal. “The wedding is cancelled,” he said flatly, each word carrying finality, sharp and unforgiving.

Mark’s head snapped up, his lips parting. “Jeno..” His voice cracked, his eyes pleading before the words could even follow. But Jeno wasn’t finished. He wasn’t going to allow this moment to pass with only silence.

“You were supposed to be my best friend,” Jeno said, his voice breaking against the force of his anger, “Do you understand that? For years, you’ve been the one I trusted, the one I thought I could lean on. And I could’ve lived with a marriage that wasn’t full of soul-crushing love or some kind of fairytale passion, I knew that from the beginning.” His voice faltered, then strengthened again, fueled by the ache in his chest. “But what we did have, Mark, what I thought we had, was trust. And you broke it. You broke it in the worst possible way.”

Mark’s breath hitched, his eyes brimming, but he couldn’t form a defense. Jeno’s words were a mirror held up to every choice, every stolen moment that had led them here.

“And you, Hyuck,” Jeno continued, his voice tight, though his eyes briefly flickered to his younger brother. There was no venom in his gaze, but the pain was clearer than anything. “You weren’t just my brother. You were the one person I thought I would never have to question. The one person who would never hurt me like this. But the both of you, the both of you made me into a fool in front of everyone. You didn’t just betray a promise. You betrayed me. You betrayed us.” His voice shook, his throat constricting, but he forced the words out, as if saying them was the only way to bleed out the poison festering inside him.

The room was silent except for Jeno’s breathing, ragged and uneven, as though the act of saying it all aloud had exhausted every ounce of strength in him. He looked between the two of them, his best friend and his brother, and for the first time, his expression softened not into forgiveness, but into grief. His next words came quieter, but sharper for it. “I haven’t just lost my fiancé today. I have lost my closest friend. And I have lost my brother.”

The weight of his words crushed the room into silence once more, this time heavier than before. Mark’s vision blurred as the sting of tears rose hot against his eyes, and beside him Donghyuck’s breath trembled audibly, his chest tight as if he couldn’t find enough air. Neither could move, neither could speak, they could only stand there, unraveling beneath the truth of Jeno’s words.

And with that, Jeno turned. He didn’t wait for an answer. He didn’t wait for apologies or explanations that could never come close to repairing what had been broken. He simply walked away, his back straight, his shoulders rigid, leaving behind the ruins of what had once been bonds too sacred to imagine losing.

Mark stood rooted in place, the silence reverberating in the wake of Jeno’s departure. His chest constricted painfully, each breath a battle as guilt clawed its way through his ribs. Donghyuck, only a few feet away, looked like he might collapse, his arms tightening around himself as though he could hold his body together when everything else was falling apart.

Donghyuck didn’t wait a second longer after Jeno left the room. His chest was heaving, his fists clenched, and without so much as a glance back, he spun on his heel and strode out of the suffocating lounge. The echo of his footsteps was sharp, furious, cutting through the heavy silence.

Mark’s heart lurched into his throat. His body moved before he could think, chasing after him, ignoring the voices of his parents and Jeno’s family calling his name. “Hyuck, please, wait!” His words cracked, broken by panic, but Donghyuck didn’t stop. 

By the time Mark caught up, Donghyuck had already slammed his bedroom door shut. Mark shoved it open, his pulse hammering in his ears, his throat burning. Inside, Donghyuck was pulling his suitcase out, ripping clothes from the closet with violent motions.

“Baby, please,” Mark’s voice was shaking, his hands reaching out helplessly as he stepped into the room.

“Shut up, Mark!” Donghyuck’s voice thundered, harsh enough to make Mark flinch back. He whipped around, eyes burning with unshed tears. “What the fuck is there left to listen to? I threw away my fucking relationship with my brother for you! Do you even get that? Do you even realize the weight of that? I shattered the one bond I thought was unbreakable,” His chest was heaving, his words almost breaking with every syllable, “And for what?”

Mark stumbled closer, tears sliding down his cheeks, his voice barely holding, “Do-”

Donghyuck’s laugh was hollow, a bitter sound that cracked apart midair. He hurled a handful of clothes into the suitcase, “Don’t you dare say anything, Mark. Don’t you dare pretend there is an ‘us’ when you couldn’t even stand by me when I begged you to. We broke Jeno’s heart, Mark. I hurt him so much, for what?”

Mark’s hands shook, helpless, “Hyuck, I-”

“For a man who couldn’t even choose me!” Donghyuck screamed, pointing at him with a trembling hand. His voice split, torn open by anguish, “For a man who stood there, silent, while I begged him on my knees to cancel his fucking wedding! For a man who let me bleed my heart out and couldn’t even give me one word back!”

Mark’s knees nearly gave out, his breath ragged. “Please-”

Donghyuck’s voice dropped, quiet but more cutting than a scream. “Do you know what that felt like, Mark? Do you have any idea what it feels like to rip open your chest, to tell someone you’re in love with them, and all you get back is silence?” His voice wavered, his throat tight, but he kept going. “You stood there like a coward. And I was so fucking stupid to believe you ever felt the same.”

Mark shook his head violently, tears streaming, “It’s not like that-”

“It is exactly like that!” Donghyuck shouted, his voice breaking. He gripped the dresser like it was the only thing keeping him upright. “You couldn’t even say it back. You couldn’t even look at me and give me that much. So don’t stand here now and act like we will clean this mess together. Don’t you dare.”

Mark’s sob caught in his throat. His lips trembled as he tried to reach for him, but Donghyuck smacked his hand away, his voice shaking with pure rage. “Don’t touch me! Don’t fucking touch me!” His whole body shook as he screamed, his words choking on sobs. “All of this, everything we did, it was just a stupid mistake. And I hate you for it, Mark Lee. I hate you so fucking much. I was irrevocably in love with you. And you broke me. And you couldn’t even give me a single word back in return,” He dragged a shaking hand over his face, his voice breaking again. “I hate you. I hate what you did to me. I hate that I loved you.”

Mark’s entire body shook, his hands clawing at the floor, but he had no words left. Just strangled sobs and his shattered chest caving in.

And Donghyuck stood there, suitcase half-packed, his heart in ruins, staring at the broken man on his knees before him. His tears streamed silently, but his jaw was set. His voice came out as nothing more than a rasp, “Don’t ever show me your face again, Mark.”

No one spoke. No one moved. The wedding, the families, the futures they had all been bracing themselves for, it all hung suspended in the air, splintered into fragments. 

And for the first time since the night before, Mark wished desperately that he could go back, that he could undo every choice, erase every word, just to save the pieces of what he had just lost forever.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ✈️ɞ˚‧｡⋆

[ track fourteen: we don’t talk anymore ]

It had been six months since the incident in Italy.

Six months since Mark had returned to the States and Donghyuck had returned to the UK. Six months since he had last seen his family, Jeno, or Donghyuck. Six months since he had stood in that dimly lit bedroom with his heart splintering under the weight of Donghyuck’s words. Six months since he had lost a part of himself that he hadn’t realized was essential until it was gone.

He told himself, in the beginning, that time would fix it. That heartbreak was like a wound, raw and burning at first but destined to scab and fade. If he just kept moving, if he kept busy enough, then maybe the sharpness would dull. But it never dulled. 

Time didn’t wash Donghyuck out of him, it only carved deeper lines where he used to be, making the absence feel permanent, like a scar etched into his very bones.

Mark’s days became heavy with routine. He would wake up, shower, eat, go to work, come back, eat again, try to sleep. It was mechanical and numbing, a cycle that felt endless. And yet in every crack of that monotony, Donghyuck slipped in. He was there in the silence of the morning, when Mark brushed his teeth and caught himself staring at the steam curling on the mirror, remembering how Donghyuck would draw little hearts on fogged glass. He was there when Mark sat in the office, staring at a spreadsheet until numbers blurred into lyrics they had once hummed to each other across lunches.

Even in the most mundane details, Donghyuck haunted him. A cologne on a stranger would undo him completely. The melody of a pop song spilling from a shop window would have him frozen mid-step. A burst of laughter from across the street would send his chest lurching, because it wasn’t his laugh, but for a split second Mark believed it could be. Every day became a collection of tiny landmines, waiting for the next reminder to blow through him.

Nights were crueler. Nights were when silence pressed down the hardest, when his body begged for rest but his mind betrayed him. He would lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking maybe tonight he would dream of nothing and that he would finally get peace. But when sleep came, it was merciless. He dreamed of Donghyuck’s warmth beside him, dreamed of the way their hands had fit together like they were made to, dreamed of Donghyuck’s voice shaking as he begged Mark to choose him.. He would wake with a start, sheets damp, throat tight, his chest burning with a longing he couldn’t expel.

He tried to force distractions into his life. Friends pulled him out, insisted on parties, dinners, dates. He nodded along, played his part, even smiled sometimes. But he could never escape the weight. When someone touched his hand, it felt wrong. When someone leaned in close, it felt hollow. He would always pull back, always leave early, because no one else’s presence filled the empty space inside him.

At work, it was no better. His mind slipped constantly, betraying him in ways he couldn’t control. A file number mirrored Donghyuck’s birthday. A project code spelled out his initials. Even his coffee breaks left him reeling, because the taste of bitter espresso would drag him back to a small café in Florence where Donghyuck had stained his lips with sugar and teased him endlessly. No task, no distraction, was safe from the reach of memory.

He told himself he hated it, hated how the universe mocked him with these reminders, hated how little control he had over his own heart. But beneath that hatred was something worse, fear. 

Fear that this was permanent, that Donghyuck had become woven so deeply into him that he would never be able to untangle himself. That he would live the rest of his life haunted by someone he could never have.

Sometimes, on the loneliest nights, he tried to write. Tried to bleed the ache out of himself by putting it onto paper. But every word failed him. The sentences came out broken, stilted, empty of the depth he carried inside. Because what he wanted to write was simple, and devastating.. But he couldn’t bring himself to let it out. Putting it down in ink would make it real, would make the loss even sharper. So he tore the pages out, crumpled them into nothing, and let the silence swallow him again.

Six months of silence stretched between them, but Donghyuck remained everywhere. Mark carried him in the way his hand hovered over his phone each night, thumb poised above a number he never dialed. He carried him in the double takes he made on the street, heart lurching every time he thought he saw a flash of familiar hair, only to find another stranger. He carried him in the smallest things, like the way he reached for sugar before tasting his coffee, remembering how Donghyuck insisted coffee without sweetness was misery.

Sometimes, when the weight became unbearable, he told himself it was his punishment. That maybe he deserved this ache and the constant hollowing out. And the worst part was, he accepted it. He let himself believe that this was what he had earned.

And yet, deep down, even as he cursed himself, even as he fought to bury it, there was a truth he couldn’t extinguish. A truth that lingered like a heartbeat beneath everything he did, Donghyuck wasn’t gone. Not really. Because no matter how far the distance, no matter how many months passed, he was still there, living inside every thought, every memory, every fragile part of Mark’s chest.

On the other side of the Atlantic, things were no different.

Donghyuck had tried, with every ounce of him, to cut Mark out. He had deleted numbers, blocked social media, scrubbed photos off his phone until his storage looked empty and his chest even emptier. He had sworn to himself that he would not live in the shadow of a love that had left him begging on his knees. And yet, even in his resolve, the grief clung to him like a second skin.

The days were heavier for him, not with hope, but with the weight of mourning. He mourned Mark as if he were dead, as if the man he had given his heart to had simply ceased to exist. Because for Donghyuck, the man who had walked away in Italy, the one who had whispered I can’t with eyes that wouldn’t meet his, wasn’t Mark Lee anymore. He was a stranger. And mourning a stranger felt cruel, but loving him still felt worse.

He went back to Oxford, surrounded by noise, by people who loved him, by classmates and professors who tried to pull him into the living. But even in the thick of chatter, Donghyuck felt the hollowness. He laughed when he was supposed to laugh, answered questions when they came his way, but every sound he made felt borrowed. It wasn’t real. The real him was still stranded somewhere on the Amalfi Coast, on a bed where he had begged for love and been denied.

Unlike Mark, Donghyuck didn’t let the memories linger like open wounds. He fought them. He shut the door on them, locked them, tried to build a life where Mark didn’t exist. When a song came on that reminded him, he skipped it instantly. When his friends joked about weddings or proposals, he excused himself. When his own reflection looked too fragile, too much like a boy still in love, he splashed water over it until the mirror blurred.

But grief was cunning. It always found ways back in. Some nights, he dreamed, not of love, but of the pain. He dreamed of shouting, of his voice cracking as he begged Mark to choose him. He woke up hoarse, cheeks damp, and it would take him minutes to remember that it wasn’t happening again. That the heartbreak had already happened, months ago, and he was still re-living it against his will.

He stopped journalling. That was the clearest sign to his friends that something inside him had broken. For years, words had spilled out of him like breathing, notebooks filled with scraps of thoughts. But now, every time he tried to write, the pen hovered, the page remained blank. Because no matter what he wrote, it would bleed Mark. And Donghyuck didn’t want to immortalize him in writing. He didn’t want to give him another inch of his soul.

So instead he numbed himself. Parties became a habit. Nights blurred with alcohol and noise, faces he didn’t remember the next morning. Kisses that tasted like nothing. Touches that left no print. His friends called it healing, said he was moving on. But Donghyuck knew it wasn’t. It was erasure. It was him trying to bury the love so deep beneath meaningless chaos that maybe, one day, it would suffocate.

And yet, when he came home, when the music had stopped and the drinks had worn off, the silence mocked him. He would sit on his bed, staring at the ceiling, remembering the weight of Mark’s body against his, the warmth of his breath in the dark, the safety he had felt in arms that had ultimately betrayed him. Those memories didn’t soften with time. They hardened, became jagged. Every recollection cut sharper than before.

There were moments when he almost convinced himself he was fine. When he smiled at something Chenle said, or when Renjun hugged him too tight, or when Jisung dragged him out for late-night ice cream. But those moments always came with a sting, the realization that healing didn’t mean forgetting. He could live, yes, he could move, laugh, exist. But he would never be the same. A part of him had been carved out in Italy, and nothing would fill it back.

He told himself he hated Mark now. That the love had been poisoned, that the man wasn’t worthy of the devotion Donghyuck had thrown at his feet. And sometimes, that hatred gave him strength. It steadied his voice when people asked, it let him shake his head and say he was fine. 

But when the hatred thinned, and it always thinned, the love came rushing back, uninvited, unrelenting

He didn’t daydream about second chances or secret reunions. He had given up on hope. What he wanted, what he begged for in the privacy of his chest, was simply release. To wake up one morning and feel nothing at all. To forget the timbre of his laugh, the weight of his touch, the ache of his absence. 

And yet, six months later, freedom hadn’t come. What came instead was mourning. Not loud, not public, but quiet and suffocating. He mourned the boy he had loved. He mourned the future he had dreamt of. He mourned the part of himself that had loved so recklessly, so completely, only to be left kneeling in a stranger’s silence.

Mourning was only darkness. And Donghyuck had made his peace with it, because maybe, in the end, darkness was all Mark had left him with.

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[ track fifteen: is there someone else? ]

It was eight in the evening when the doorbell rang in Mark’s penthouse.

He hadn’t been expecting anyone, certainly not the figure that greeted him when he opened the door. Jeno stood there, hands tucked into his coat pockets, his expression unreadable but his eyes holding something heavy. For a moment, Mark froze, every memory from Italy crashing back in a wave that left his throat dry. He half expected Jeno to turn and leave, but instead, Jeno spoke softly, almost too softly, “Can I come in?”

Mark stepped aside silently, unable to form words. The quiet between them felt like a chasm, stretching from the door to the living room. They sat down opposite each other, the city lights bleeding through the glass windows. 

It was Jeno who began, voice steady, his gaze locked on Mark’s face. “I won’t waste much time, so I will get directly to the point. Our relationship didn’t start with fireworks, Mark. You know that. There weren't any big flashy moments, no big cinematic events. It just happened. We realized we were funny with each other, we helped each other when work suffocated us, and we didn’t mind the companionship. From there, it evolved. Silently, without fuss.”

Mark stayed quiet, listening, heart clenching. Jeno’s voice didn’t carry anger, not anymore and instead it carried the weight of truth.

“It wasn’t anything batshit crazy,” Jeno continued, “But it wasn’t bad either. You were a dear friend. Someone I trusted. When you proposed, it felt like the logical next step, and I think both of us thought it was for the best. We were rigid, Mark. We were under so much pressure from our families, so desperate to look sorted, responsible, perfect heirs to our businesses. So we took the leap, not because we burned for each other, but because it felt safe. And at the time, I didn’t mind. I liked you. I thought, maybe that was enough.”

Mark’s throat tightened. Every word was a reminder of what he had destroyed, of the life that might have been, not passionate, but steady and dependable.

“I always thought it was okay,” Jeno went on, his eyes briefly dropping to his hands, then back to Mark. “That we didn’t pounce on each other every second. That we didn’t say crazy confessions or fall into melodrama. Because I could always count on you, Mark. You were reliable. You were my friend. And then you went ahead and broke that trust. You tore apart the foundation we built, and it hurt. It really did. The life I thought I had shattered right in front of me.”

Mark looked down at his hands, fingers knotted together so tightly his knuckles had gone pale. His chest ached at Jeno’s words, because they were true.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Jeno said, leaning back against the couch but keeping his tone even, “Nothing excuses what you did. No amount of apologies will ever completely heal what you broke between us. That betrayal? It’ll always sting. But somewhere in these months, I started to understand. Not forgive, but understand, just a little, why you got so entangled in that mess.”

Mark finally looked up, confusion clouding his features, “What do you mean?”

“The truth is,” Jeno said quietly, almost like he was admitting something to himself as much as to Mark, “For two people who were so boring and had given up on a fairytale story, we ended up with two crazy and hopelessly romantic younger brothers. Two people who only know how to love loudly and dangerously.”

Mark’s breath hitched. His brow furrowed, “Jaemin?”

A small, fleeting smile flickered across Jeno’s face, “Yeah. He reached out a week or two after Italy. Just to check on me. I thought it was pity at first, but then, God knows what he dragged me into. I didn’t know happiness could look like that. He showed me mundane things that suddenly seemed beautiful when he was in them. He made me want to leave work early just to see him smile. He kissed me and I realized that I had never known kissing could be that wild and that was addictive. Hell, he is the one making me say all these cheesy things. And slowly, I realized that’s probably what Donghyuck made you feel too.”

Mark nodded silently, throat closing up around the flood of emotions. He couldn’t argue because Jeno was right. That was exactly what had happened.

“I wish you had done it differently,” Jeno said, his voice tightening with emotion now. “I still wish you hadn’t stabbed me in the back like that. I wish you had the decency to tell me before letting it explode. You were selfish, Mark. That much won’t change. But today, I’m the one who’s selfish.”

Mark looked at him uncertainly, “What do you mean?”

“I want to be with Jaemin,” Jeno said, voice firm now, like he had rehearsed this line a hundred times. “And that’s only possible if our families are cordial. If we can untangle the mess Italy left us in. For Jaemin, I’m willing to forgive you. Not forget, not erase, but forgive enough to move forward. Don’t think for a second that I’m doing this for you, Mark. This isn’t about you. This is about Jaemin. If forgiving you makes things easier for me to be with him, then I’ll swallow it. That’s the only reason I’m standing here right now. So, if you and Donghyuck ever choose to be together again, I’ll accept that too. Not because I want to, God knows I would rather bury every memory of Italy, but because I refuse to lose Jaemin.”

Mark had stopped hearing the minute Jeno had said that he would accept his and Donghyuck’s relationship. 

For the first time in six months, there was the faintest shimmer of hope that maybe not everything was lost forever.

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[ track sixteen: Do I Wanna Know? ]

It was cold in Oxford when Mark’s flight landed.

The city welcomed him with a damp, gray drizzle and wind that sliced through his coat. But he barely noticed. His mind was consumed entirely by Donghyuck, every memory of him twisting into a sharp ache he could no longer ignore. He pulled his jacket tighter, hands shaking slightly, and stepped into the taxi, repeating the streets and corners Donghyuck had once described.

The thought of not finding Donghyuck made his chest tighten, each inhale sharp, each step heavier than the last. Even the normal bustle of students and tourists felt like a blur around him, irrelevant. All that existed in Mark’s mind was the boy he had lost sight of, and he couldn’t stop thinking about the months of absence that had gnawed at him.

Mark’s first stop was the university square. The trees were bare, their skeletal branches glinting with rain, casting long shadows across the cobblestones. He paused at a café he recognised by its name. Donghyuck had mentioned it often, saying it had the best hot chocolate. Mark searched every table, every chair, every window for a flicker of recognition. But there was nothing. He asked the barista about him. The woman shook her head kindly, offering apologies that felt cruel in the moment. Mark gripped the edge of the table, his knuckles white, feeling the hopelessness claw up his chest. B

By late afternoon, the drizzle had grown heavier, soaking his coat and hair as he wandered down narrow streets, past quiet book shops and tiny courtyards. He asked a few students if they had seen Donghyuck, anyone who might know him and each shake of the head, each apologetic shrug, was like a punch to the gut. The rain slicked streets reflected his blurred vision, the lights of Oxford glowing faintly against the wet cobblestones, mocking him. The ache in his chest was a quiet throb he could not shake, and it followed him as he moved, turning each moment into a torment.

As evening fell, Mark’s desperation grew sharper. The orange light of street lamps flickered across the rain-soaked roads, but they offered no warmth, only a sense of isolation. He wandered past a flower market that was closed now, past tiny boutiques where Donghyuck might have wandered. His hands dug into his pockets as he walked aimlessly, the chill of the evening biting into his fingers and face. His mind replayed every detail, the curve of Donghyuck’s smile, the way his hair fell over his forehead, the tilt of his head when he laughed at something Mark barely understood. And the more he remembered, the more the ache inside him grew.

By the time he reached the riverbank, the drizzle had turned into a persistent rain. His hair clung to his forehead, his coat soaked through, and still, he did not stop. Each step was heavy with exhaustion, but he refused to give in. He remembered the little alleyways Donghyuck had described. He called out softly into the wind, half-hoping that he would hear a reply, half-expecting nothing. The streets echoed back only in silence, a cruel affirmation that Donghyuck was not here, yet every fiber of his being screamed that he had to find him tonight. The cold seeped into his bones, but the thought of Donghyuck warmed a small, burning fire in his chest. 

Just as he was about to turn back toward the hotel, resigned to wait for the morning, a soft, airy laugh drifted to him from the side street. Mark froze, his heart hammering violently in his chest. The sound was impossibly familiar, carrying a rhythm he could not mistake. His throat went dry, and his feet felt rooted to the ground. He told himself it was a trick of the rain, a hallucination born of months of longing and exhaustion. Yet the laugh came again, bright and teasing, unmistakable. Mark’s pulse surged. He spun toward the sound, searching desperately, his hands clenching. 

And there he was. Donghyuck.

Donghyuck stood across the street, not alone, but it hardly mattered. Two friends trailed beside him, chatting and gesturing, but Mark barely noticed them. His entire focus narrowed to Donghyuck, the curve of his lips, the mischievous sparkle in his eyes, the way he laughed. Time seemed to stretch and fold around that single image, the rain falling in slow, glittering threads. Mark’s chest tightened until it felt as if it might split open, his heartbeat pounding so loudly he feared it would give him away. All the months of longing, of restraint, of quiet despair, converged in this one moment.

As Donghyuck started to walk away, oblivious to him, a surge of panic and desire overtook Mark. He couldn’t let him leave without knowing he was here, without closing the distance that had felt impossible for half a year. Without thinking, he shouted, “Donghyuck!” His voice cracked against the rain, sharp and urgent, carrying across the cobblestones and bouncing off the walls. The two friends turned, confused, but Donghyuck froze immediately, head tilting toward the sound. Recognition sparked in his eyes, and the distance between them seemed to vanish in an instant.

Mark’s legs propelled him forward, sloshing through puddles as if the water itself could wash away the last six months. He didn’t care about the rain soaking through his coat, the chill biting into him, the exhausted ache in his muscles. All that mattered was the figure ahead of him, the boy whose absence had hollowed him out. Donghyuck’s eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, he faltered, unsure whether to step back or run into Mark’s arms. 

For a heartbeat, Mark thought the boy would simply turn away again, leaving him in the street like a ghost from another life. But then, slowly, Donghyuck took a single step forward, his coat swaying with the motion, eyes never leaving Mark’s. That one step felt monumental, like the city tilted on its axis, pulling them closer by some magnetic force. 

Mark, trembling, moved forward too until they were standing just a few feet apart, the air between them heavy and humming. They stared at each other for what felt like forever, two halves of a storm finally colliding, eyes locked as though trying to read the months of pain written there.

Mark swallowed, his throat dry despite the rain, and finally whispered, “Hyuckie-” the name breaking from him like a confession. But Donghyuck’s eyes hardened, his voice cutting across Mark’s like a blade. “What do you want?” he asked, sharp but trembling underneath, the question loaded with all the hurt and all the walls he had built in these six months. The sound of it was enough to make Mark’s chest ache, it wasn’t the beautiful voice he remembered, it was a voice that had learned to survive without him. The rain drummed on the pavement like a countdown.

“You,” Mark said simply, the word falling from his mouth without hesitation. It was raw and aching and stripped bare, “I want you.” His voice cracked a little at the end, but he didn’t look away. 

Donghyuck flinched as though the word itself hurt. He laughed then, but it was soft and bitter, a sound that didn’t belong to the boy Mark remembered. “You had me,” Donghyuck said, eyes flicking down briefly before meeting his again. “And then you lost me.” Each syllable landed like a blow.

Mark’s hands twitched at his sides. “And I want to earn you again,” he said, his voice shaking but steadying with each word. “Just one chance, sunshine. Just one chance.” His chest rose and fell as he took a step closer, his breath misting in the cold air between them. 

Donghyuck blinked, rain clinging to his lashes like tiny crystals. His jaw worked as though he were chewing on every unsaid word. “You had it,” he finally said, voice low, bitter, “You had it when I was begging you to choose me.”

Mark closed his eyes briefly, inhaling sharply before opening them again. “I know, sunshine,” he whispered, stepping forward until they were almost toe to toe. “I know. I fucked up. Real time.” His fingers twitched as though they wanted to reach out but didn’t dare. The confession hung in the air between them, heavy and sodden like the clouds above. 

Donghyuck’s face softened for just a flicker but then hardened again, his lips pressed in a thin line. “Do you even know what you did to me?” he asked, voice breaking at the edges.

“I do, but please Hyuck, you have to listen to me,” Mark said quickly, his voice cracking with urgency. “You.. you made me realize what love is, Hyuck. Before you, I had this set mindset that I would never find true love. That love was something only the luckiest found. And then you came along.” He took a shaky breath, his eyes shining even in the dim streetlight, “And you told me all these crazy stories I wanted to keep hearing. You made me laugh in ways I didn’t know I could. You even made me fall in love with the rain.” His eyes lifted briefly toward the downpour, then back to Donghyuck. “Even this feels like you now.”

Mark took in a deep breath, “You have no idea what that month in Amalfi did to me,” he began, voice cracking, low and urgent. “Every day with you felt alive. Like the world had shifted its colors just for us. I have never laughed like that, not really. The mornings we snuck out to explore the streets, the afternoons we wandered along the cliffs, pretending to be lost, I never wanted it to end. You made the ordinary magical.”

He swallowed hard, his chest tightening, “And it’s everything about you, Hyuck. How you pouted at the tiniest things you liked, how your eyes lit up at a gelato or a trinket in a boutique, how you tugged me to see every little corner. You taught me how to really live, and I experienced joy in a way I had never known. Every smile, every laugh, every touch, it became my anchor. And then, the nights at the pool, the stolen kisses in the water, I couldn’t get enough of you. I couldn’t get enough of feeling so alive.”

Mark’s voice dropped, softer, almost a whisper, “Even mundane things remind me of you. Sugar in my coffee makes me think of the mornings you stole my croissant and added two extra teaspoons in my cup.. Every little thing I didn’t notice before, I see now. I see you in all of it. I can’t eat without picturing you eating next to me. I can’t walk past a streetlight without imagining your hair catching it just right. You’re in everything, Hyuck, whether I want it or not.”

He took a trembling breath, “And I fell for you, slowly, painfully, completely. I thought I understood love before, in the sterile sense, but with you, I realized I had never truly felt it. Not the way you made me feel, messy, desperate, awake, and alive. I could have stayed wrapped in my safe little world, but you shattered it in the best way. You made me see the world as something I could belong in.”

Mark’s lips trembled as he spoke, words rushing out now like a dam breaking. “Do you know how much I missed you after you left? I kept thinking I could move on, that I could bury these feelings and pretend nothing happened, but I couldn’t. I tried to forget you, Hyuck, I swear I tried. But when even the taste of sugar reminds me of you, how can I ever forget? How can I belong to someone else when my heart is too busy being yours?”

His eyes were glistening, voice breaking with the weight of months he had carried alone, “I never thought I could feel like this for anyone. But it’s you, Hyuck. It’s been you since the day you walked in my life. And I would wait for as long as it takes to show you that I mean it, to show you that I’m not the man who lost you in Italy. I want every day to be with you, every little stolen moment, every ordinary and extraordinary thing with you.”

Mark’s voice grew softer, “It’s no excuse for how shitty I was,” he continued, “But all my life, I have been raised to accept whatever was laid out for me. Every step of my life mapped out and there was just too much weighing on me, and I had never disappointed anyone before. Not once. And then you came along, and suddenly, I wanted to disappoint everyone for you, but I didn’t know how. I was scared, baby. I was a coward who hurt everyone around me.”

His chest heaved as he tried to find the words. “But I want to fix it. I want to choose you. Today and forever. Because you, Donghyuck, before meeting you, I was okay. I was functioning, existing. But after you, I realized I could be happy too. I didn’t know happiness could feel like this, that it could hurt this much to lose it. You’re the sunshine in my life and, fuck, I would die without you. So give me a chance to prove myself and earn you again.”

Donghyuck’s eyes searched his, flicking back and forth like he was trying to find a lie and not finding one. Rain slipped down his cheeks like tears he wouldn’t let himself shed. He finally exhaled, a long, shuddering breath. “You let me think I was nothing to you,” His voice cracked at the end, the bitterness bleeding into something rawer.

Mark took another tentative step closer, their shoes nearly touching now. “I know,” he whispered. “And I hate myself for it. I can’t change what I did, but I can change everything from this point on.”

Donghyuck bit his lip hard, looking down at their shoes. He murmured, barely audible over the rain. “I told myself I hated you, that I would never forgive you.”

Mark’s heart clenched at the words, his throat tightening as if he had swallowed glass. “Hyuck,” he breathed, his voice trembling. “I’m not asking for forgiveness overnight. I’m asking for a chance to make it right. To show you that I’m not the same coward I was. To give you every part of me, openly, without fear. To fight for you this time.” His eyes shone as he said it, rain dripping down his temples like streaks of silver.

Donghyuck shook his head slightly, his wet hair clinging to his forehead. “I was at fault too,” he admitted quietly after a long pause. “In so many places. I blamed it all on you because it was easier than facing myself. I made mistakes.”

Mark felt his chest collapse inward, the weight of his own guilt almost too much to bear, “We’ll fix everything together, baby,” he said softly. “I don’t care how long it takes. Just don’t walk away from me now, Hyuck. Please.” His voice cracked on the last word, his hands finally reaching up to lightly cradle Donghyuck’s face..

Donghyuck’s eyes fluttered closed at the touch, his breath hitching audibly. “You have one last chance,” he whispered finally, the words shaky but firm, “One. To fix this. To prove you’re not the same man who let me go. Don’t waste it, Mark.” He opened his eyes then, meeting Mark’s gaze squarely, rain dripping from his lashes. “Because if you do, I don’t think I would survive it a second time.”

Mark’s face broke open with relief, a choked sound leaving his throat like a sob and a laugh all at once, “Can I.. Can I kiss you?” he asked, voice trembling with disbelief, his thumbs brushing softly against Donghyuck’s wet cheeks. 

The younger boy hesitated for a heartbeat, then gave a tiny nod, barely perceptible. “Okay,” Donghyuck whispered, and that one word cracked something open inside Mark.

Mark leaned in, pressing his mouth to Donghyuck’s with a desperation that was so soft, they felt like they would melt. It was a kiss that trembled with apology and hope. The rain mixed with the salt of their tears, sliding over their joined mouths, and neither of them moved to stop it. Mark whispered “I love you” against his lips, again and again, like a prayer, like an incantation, like it might root him there forever. Donghyuck shivered under the words but didn’t pull away, his hands finally rising to grip Mark’s coat, pulling him closer.

In the middle of the rain-soaked Oxford street, they clung to each other, kissing like they could fold six months of absence into a single moment. And for the first time since Italy, the ache inside both of them felt like it might be mending.

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[ track seventeen: wajah tum ho ]

Mark began quietly, not with grand gestures but with persistence, the kind Donghyuck could feel every day. He showed up outside the university gates with steaming cups of coffee, the way Donghyuck liked it, too sweet. He left little notes tucked under books Donghyuck borrowed from the library, some teasing, some earnest. He didn’t demand forgiveness, he courted it patiently, like learning how to breathe in rhythm with someone again.

On weekends, Mark invited Donghyuck to walks along the cobbled streets of Oxford, never pushing conversation if it didn’t come. He learned Donghyuck’s favorite corners of the city, the tiny bookstore by the chapel, the café that played jazz at night, the park where the river bent like a secret. Mark listened more than he spoke, memorizing every word Donghyuck said like it was scripture. 

There were nights Mark cooked in Donghyuck’s flat, fumbling with recipes he wasn’t good at. He would burn the onions, ruin the pasta, but Donghyuck always laughed, softening as he leaned against the counter. Sometimes Donghyuck would step in, gently nudging him aside to fix the mess, and Mark would just stand there, chin propped on his palm, staring at him like he was the most beautiful sight in existence. Those quiet dinners tasted better than any restaurant.

Slowly, Mark learned Donghyuck’s silences. At first, they were walls, the kind that shut him out. But over time, they softened into pauses, invitations for him to hold his hand, or to sit close without speaking. Mark took every cue tenderly, never rushing. When Donghyuck leaned into his shoulder during a late movie night, Mark almost cried, not because of the intimacy itself, but because of the trust it meant was returning. 

Mark brought music back into their lives. He strummed on his guitar in the evenings, writing clumsy verses about Oxford streets, about gelato and rain, about Donghyuck with his stupidly bright smile. He let Donghyuck mock him for the rhymes, but secretly, it was exactly what Donghyuck loved, how sincere Mark was. 

It wasn’t always easy. There were arguments, moments where Donghyuck snapped, throwing back Italy into his face, accusing him of weakness, of betrayal. Mark didn’t fight back. He stood there, taking the blows, eyes glassy but steady, saying only, “I deserve it. But I’ll still stay.” And something about his steadiness broke through. Donghyuck realized Mark wasn’t here to win, he was here to endure, to prove that love wasn’t only about joy but about persistence too.

They shared blankets at movie nights, lingered too long in doorways, brushed fingers across desks. It was fragile, but alive. Mark never took more than Donghyuck offered, never let desperation ruin the slow bloom. He let Donghyuck relearn his touch, relearn his steadiness. He gave him space to breathe, but stayed close enough that the absence wasn’t frightening anymore. Every laugh they shared felt like another brick in a house they were building together.

Donghyuck asked the question one evening when they were curled up on his couch, the window cracked open to let in the chilly air. His voice was quiet, almost hesitant, as he traced a finger across Mark’s wrist. “Don’t you have to go back?” he murmured. “The States, and your work. How long can you really stay here, Mark?” 

Mark only shifted closer, pressing his forehead against Donghyuck’s temple. “Work can always wait, sunshine,” he said softly, each word heavy with conviction. “I have already spent six months without you, and they killed me. I’m not about to let that happen again. If I have to stay here another year, two years, hell, however long it takes to earn you back completely, then that’s what I’ll do. Oxford, London, wherever you are, that’s where I’ll be.”

The first time intimacy returned between them, it wasn’t fiery but trembling. Donghyuck let Mark into his bed one cold night, shivering from the rain outside, and instead of being rough, Mark just held him. Their legs tangled, noses brushing, lips ghosting with hesitant kisses. Mark’s hands stayed respectful, tracing lines down Donghyuck’s arms, memorizing skin like it was scripture.

Weeks later, it deepened. Donghyuck kissed him harder, pushed him back onto the couch, straddling his lap. The kisses grew desperate, messy, tasting of everything they had held back. Donghyuck’s nails dragged against his shirt, and Mark moaned into his mouth, whispering, “God, Hyuck, I missed you.” Their mouths moved like they were trying to erase every second of distance.

But it wasn’t just how attracted they were to each other that kept them close. It was the way Mark showed up for Donghyuck’s exams with care packages. It was the way he remembered the exact pastry he liked from the bakery and brought it without asking. It was the way he held Donghyuck’s hand walking through the rain, humming quietly like they were back in Amalfi. Every small thing added up, weaving a tapestry of consistency, of showing love in action.

They traveled together again, this time to Paris during spring break. Mark booked them a hotel suite with a view of the Seine, and they spent days wandering the streets, laughing at their broken French, kissing on bridges like tourists. Donghyuck made fun of Mark’s guidebook obsession, Mark teased his selfie addiction, and somehow it was perfect. They weren’t escaping this time, they were living. After finishing up with a hot dinner at the Eiffel tower, they were wrapped up in each other’s arms in the streets, laughing clumsily about some weird story Donghyuck narrated. 

Mark didn’t even give Donghyuck the chance to close the door when they reached their suite before he pushed him inside, hands gripping his waist as their mouths crashed together in a hungry, messy kiss that made them both stumble toward the bed. Donghyuck laughed against his lips, breathless and bright, and Mark only kissed harder, stealing every sound from him.

Between broken laughter and teeth grazing lips, Donghyuck whispered, “Hyung, I think I realised something.” His tone was soft, almost innocent, but his smirk betrayed him. 

Mark pulled back just an inch, brushing their noses together, murmuring, “What is it, baby?” as his thumb traced over Donghyuck’s jawline.

Donghyuck bit his lip, eyes glinting mischievously. “I think I might have a new kink.” 

The words slipped out like a secret, and Mark’s brows shot up before he chuckled low, still kissing down the corner of his mouth. “Oh yeah? And what is it, hm?” he teased, lips dragging across Donghyuck’s skin while his hands held him tighter.

“Please don’t be scared when you enter the room,” Donghyuck whispered suddenly, a little sheepish this time. 

Mark paused just enough to raise a brow. “What do you mean?” he asked, suspicion lacing his voice as he leaned back to study him, “Scared of what?”

Donghyuck gave a small laugh, tugging Mark closer by the shirt collar. “I asked room service to do something while we were outside,” he admitted.

Mark narrowed his eyes, amusement breaking into a grin as he muttered, “Now you’re scaring me, Hyuck.”

“I think you’ll enjoy it,” Donghyuck promised, smirking as tugged Mark by the wrist. His heartbeat quickened, anticipation painted all over his face, as he padded toward the bedroom door he had left closed. 

Mark followed, half amused, half cautious, biting back his own grin as he asked, “What did you do, sunshine?”

Donghyuck only pressed a quick kiss to his lips, then swung the door open to reveal the surprise. And there it was, their bed, freshly made, facing a massive mirror mounted on the opposite wall. Mark’s lips parted slightly, stunned for a beat, before he turned to look at Donghyuck who was now smirking with the smugness of someone who knew exactly what he wanted.

Mark let out a low whistle, his hand sliding down Donghyuck’s back as they both stared at the mirror. “God,” he murmured, laughter tucked into his voice, “How could I ever forget you were a freaky, kinky whore, huh?” Donghyuck giggled, half burying his face in Mark’s chest as though shy, but the sparkle in his eyes betrayed just how much he loved hearing it.

“Shut up,” Donghyuck laughed, “You love that I’m like this.” Mark’s grin turned sharp as he pushed him toward the bed, making sure his body fell onto the sheets in a way he was facing the mirror. He followed quickly, crawling over him, hands tugging at Donghyuck’s shirt until it was up and off, revealing the smooth skin that glowed in the warm lamplight.

Mark kissed down his chest, teasing his tongue across skin before leaning up to catch his gaze in the mirror. “Look at you,” he whispered hotly. “All spread out for me, sunshine. And I get to watch myself fuck you.” His hands were already working at Donghyuck’s pants, tugging them down with rough insistence, until he had him bare and writhing under the weight of his stare. Donghyuck bit his lip, his laughter breaking through the tension as he wiggled, pretending to cover himself.

“You’re insane,” Donghyuck teased, but his breath was already short, body trembling as Mark’s hands slid down his thighs. 

“And you’re gorgeous,” Mark shot back, tone low, as he dragged his fingers teasingly over the curve of Donghyuck’s ass. The sight of them together in the mirror, Mark still mostly dressed, Donghyuck naked and gasping, made his throat tighten. He leaned close to whisper against his ear, “Fuck, I’m going to make you watch every second of what I do to you.”

Donghyuck whimpered softly at that, his laugh fading into a breathless sound that made Mark smirk. He pressed two fingers against him, circling slowly, making sure they both saw the way Donghyuck’s body arched in response. “God, Hyuck,” he breathed, eyes glued to the mirror, “Look at how your pretty little hole opens up for me. You’re so fucking desperate, aren’t you?” Donghyuck’s cheeks were burning, but he chuckled anyway, hiding his face in the pillow for half a second before peeking at their reflection again.

“Stop saying it like that,” he said through breathless laughter, though the way his hips rocked back told a different story. Mark only grinned, pushing a finger in and watching the way Donghyuck’s mouth fell open, his lashes fluttering. 

Donghyuck moaned, caught between laughter and surrender, his eyes glued helplessly to the mirror despite himself. “You’re sick,” he whispered, voice shaking with both pleasure and fondness. 

Mark bent forward to kiss the corner of his mouth, murmuring, “Maybe. But you’re even sicker, baby. You ordered a mirror for us. You wanted this.” His second finger slid in, stretching him, the movement lewdly visible in the reflection.

Mark groaned low in his throat at the sight, his hips grinding against the mattress. “God, Hyuck, I could watch this forever,” he admitted, voice almost reverent even through the filth. “Me fucking you, your face when you take it, that perfect body trembling.” Donghyuck shivered at the words, his words dissolving into a whimper as his body pressed back against Mark’s fingers greedily.

“God, look at you,” Mark rasped, eyes never leaving the mirror, “You’re falling apart just from my fingers. Can you even imagine what you’ll be like when I actually fuck you, sunshine?” Donghyuck whimpered, clutching at the sheets, torn between laughing at the dirty words and gasping at the burn of pleasure that built deep inside him.

“Hyung,” Donghyuck whispered, voice already frayed. His giggle slipped out when Mark pressed a kiss to his temple, but it dissolved into a moan when another thrust of his fingers hit just right. “Fuck,stop teasing me.” 

Mark smirked, curling his fingers harder, dragging against that spot until Donghyuck cried out. “I’m not teasing, baby,” he breathed against his ear.

Donghyuck tried to turn away, embarrassed, but Mark caught his chin and forced him to look forward. “Uh-uh, sunshine,” he murmured. “Eyes on us. You wanted this.” His pace quickened, adding another finger and then thrusting deep and fast, the wet sound obscene in the quiet room. Donghyuck’s laughter turned into breathless gasps, his body rocking back greedily onto Mark’s hand. 

Mark was relentless, curling his fingers with every thrust, watching in awe as Donghyuck’s body shivered and strained. “You’re squeezing my fingers so tight,” he groaned, voice shaking. “You’re such a fucking whore for me, Hyuck.” Donghyuck moaned again, a broken sound, muffled in the pillow, as his hips pushed back harder as if begging for more. “Say it,” Mark demanded roughly. “Say what you are.”

“I’m-” Donghyuck choked, “I’m your-fuck- your whore.” The words tumbled out, and Mark nearly lost it at the sight of his flushed face in the mirror, his mouth open and trembling. Mark’s free hand gripped his hip tight, forcing him to stay still as his fingers worked him mercilessly.

Donghyuck’s body shook, his moans growing louder, higher, his laughter completely overtaken by pleasure now. “Hyung, I-” His voice broke, and his thighs trembled. Mark pressed his thumb against his rim, rubbing in tight circles as his fingers drove deeper. 

“Do it,” Mark urged. “Come for me, sunshine..” And with that, Donghyuck cried out, body arching hard, his climax ripping through him in waves that left his chest heaving and his cheeks streaked with tears.

Mark held him through it, his fingers still thrusting until every last tremor wracked through Donghyuck’s body. His eyes were glued to the mirror, watching in raw awe as Donghyuck collapsed forward, sweaty and undone, his smile dazed but radiant even through his gasps.

Mark dragged Donghyuck up into his lap, his chest pressed against his back as he whispered filth against his ear. Donghyuck’s body was still trembling from the orgasm Mark had just pulled out of him, but he let himself be hauled close, straddling Mark’s thighs as the older man’s cock pressed hot and hard against him. He giggled breathlessly, cheek pressed to Mark’s temple as he whispered, “Hyung, you’re such a meanie.”

Mark smirked against his jaw, his tone low and amused, almost tender in its mockery. “Yeah, baby?” he murmured, and before Donghyuck could even answer, Mark shoved him forward hard. Donghyuck gasped as his body hit the mattress, catching himself on his hands and knees, the mirror in front of the bed. Mark was already behind him, rough and fast, yanking his hips back and spreading him open like he owned every inch of him.

The stretch was brutal, Mark’s first thrust hitting deep enough that Donghyuck’s cry broke sharp and unrestrained. His fingers clawed the sheets as his body jolted under every relentless snap of Mark’s hips. “F-fuck-Hyung,” he cried out, unable to control the way his voice pitched high. Mark slapped his ass hard before gripping him tight, leaning forward with his hand tangling in Donghyuck’s hair, jerking his head up toward the mirror, “Eyes forward, sunshine. No hiding.”

Donghyuck whimpered, his whole body trembling, but he obeyed. The reflection in the mirror made his stomach twist, his flushed cheeks, tear-slicked eyes, and the way his mouth dropped open with every moan that ripped out of him. Mark watched him through the glass, his chest heaving with a dark satisfaction. “God, look at you,” Mark gritted out, his thrusts brutal, “Taking it like you were made for this cock.”

The words tore another sound out of Donghyuck, part moan. He tried to bury his face in the sheets, ashamed of his own expression in the mirror, but Mark yanked his head back by his hair to make him watch. “Come on baby, watch yourself being the little slut you really are.” The filth in his tone made Donghyuck shake, his body tightening around Mark with desperate need.

His cries were getting higher, messier, his body betraying him at every thrust. Donghyuck moaned, tears wetting his lashes as his reflection blurred. Mark’s hand left his hair only to close firm around his throat, pulling his body upright against him, keeping his gaze fixed on the mirror. 

Donghyuck’s hands shook against the sheets as he tried to hold himself up, eyes glossy and wide in the mirror. Mark’s palm pressed harder to his throat, cutting his breath into ragged whimpers.

Donghyuck sobbed, every moan falling apart into raw cries. His reflection was ruined, cheeks streaked with tears, lips swollen from Mark’s kisses and his whole body trembling. Mark’s teeth scraped his ear, biting down as his hips slammed forward, relentless.

Mark’s voice came low and rough, a growl meant only for him, “That’s right, sunshine. My stupid little slut, ruined and dripping just for me.” Donghyuck’s body convulsed, clenching tight around him as his climax ripped through him violently. 

Mark’s rhythm grew ragged, his thrusts more brutal, each one sharper than the last until his breath was hot and broken against Donghyuck’s damp skin. His hand left Donghyuck’s throat only to wrap around his waist, pulling him flush against his chest as he buried himself deeper. With one last groan, Mark let go, his climax tearing through him as he spilled inside Donghyuck, his body shuddering violently as he pressed his face into the crook of his neck.

The world went silent after, just the sound of their uneven breaths filling the room. Donghyuck’s body trembled against him, boneless and pliant, his forehead pressed against the sheets as Mark’s weight held him grounded. Slowly, Mark eased out of him, hands steady on his hips as he whispered nonsense apologies, murmurs of “so good, baby” and “you did so well for me” brushing against his ear. Donghyuck’s lashes fluttered weakly, his eyes glassy with exhaustion and relief.

Mark guided him carefully onto his back, pressing soft kisses to his temples, his nose, the damp corner of his mouth, all the while whispering sweet nothings. He disappeared only for a moment, grabbing a warm towel from the bathroom, before returning to clean him up gently, wiping away every trace of their intensity with slow touches. Donghyuck let him, eyes slipping shut and body pliant. Once Donghyuck was clean, Mark helped him sit up, slipping one of his own shirts over him when his hands shook too much to manage it himself.

Donghyuck looked ready to collapse back into the sheets, but Mark coaxed him instead to the wide window nook, its cushions piled up like a sanctuary. Outside, Paris glittered in the night, and the Eiffel Tower glowed with its golden light, a monument of romance itself. Mark slid into the seat first, then pulled Donghyuck into his lap, chest to back, wrapping his arms firmly around his waist, resting his chin on his shoulder. Their breaths slowly synced with the hum of the city outside.

They didn’t speak at first, and didn't need to. The silence was comforting, almost sacred. Mark pressed lazy kisses to Donghyuck’s shoulder, the shell of his ear, his damp hair, as though he couldn’t stop himself. Donghyuck let him, leaning back against Mark’s chest, closing his eyes to the rhythm of his heartbeat, each breath drawing him closer to sleep though he fought it.

And then, in a voice so soft it almost broke the air, Donghyuck whispered, “I love you.” It was simple, pure, and it made Mark’s chest ache in the most beautiful way. His arms tightened around him instinctively, as though afraid the words would slip away if he didn’t hold on.

Mark turned his head, lips brushing the side of Donghyuck’s temple, his voice raw when he answered, “I love you too, sunshine.” He didn’t hesitate this time, didn’t falter or choke. Donghyuck sighed softly, and tilted his head back enough to find Mark’s mouth in a kiss.

It was a slow kiss, nothing like the desperation that had consumed them earlier. Their lips met lazily, like they had all the time in the world. Mark’s hands roamed gently, stroking Donghyuck’s waist, his thighs, his stomach, memorizing every inch as though he hadn’t already. 

When they finally broke apart, the Eiffel Tower sparkled, its lights glittering across the glass, and Mark pressed his forehead against Donghyuck’s, whispering once more, like a prayer, “I love you.”

⋆｡‧˚ʚ✈️ɞ˚‧｡⋆

[ track eighteen: Hua Hai Aaj Pheli Baar ]

It had been three years since the two fell in love all over again.

Three years of rediscovering each other in ways they hadn’t thought possible. Three beautiful years of unraveling habits and secrets. Mark had grown attuned to the cadence of Donghyuck’s laughter the way one memorizes their favorite song. Donghyuck, in turn, learned the weight of Mark’s silences, and how to fill them without suffocating him. They moved through their days like a single person, completing thoughts before the other could speak them aloud. Strangers would sometimes stop to marvel at how easily they completed each other’s sentences.

Mark had grown used to London’s rain, its gray mornings where the drizzle painted the streets usually all the time. He would walk home soaked sometimes, not bothering with an umbrella because Donghyuck would be waiting at the flat, a towel in hand, grumbling about his carelessness.

 Those moments became ritual, the scolding always softened by the warmth of Donghyuck’s hands pressing the towel over his hair leading to quiet intimacy. Mark began to associate rain not with gloom like before, but with the promise of returning to that small pocket of warmth that only existed with Donghyuck.

Meanwhile, Donghyuck had grown accustomed to New York’s chaos, the ceaseless honks, the endless rush of bodies weaving through avenues, the fire escapes clinging to buildings. At first it had been overwhelming, suffocating even, but he found his rhythm in the noise and learned how to belong in the mess. 

They grew madly into each other during these years, carrying pieces of their partner wherever they went. Mark’s words began to carry Donghyuck’s sharp humor, his teasing wit slipping into conversations without him noticing. Donghyuck, on the other hand, grew softer at the edges, picking up Mark’s calm way of looking at the world, finding patience in places where once there had been only fire. Their friends noticed first how Donghyuck no longer interrupted quite as much and how Mark had started tossing jokes in meetings.

Travel became a constant, their lives stretched across airports and train stations, but even that became a thing they cherished. The long flights turned into hours of shared playlists and whispered conversations over neck pillows. They built a home not in a city, but in each other, carrying that sense of belonging like a suitcase they never misplaced. 

Every little detail became a shared language. The way Donghyuck tapped twice on Mark’s knee meant he needed a walk with him and if Mark would whistle constantly, it meant he needed attention. They no longer needed to explain what a sigh meant, or why the pout formed on their face. It was all there, translated in the shorthand of intimacy.

At the core of it all was the mad certainty that they had chosen right this time. And in that willingness, they built a love steady enough to anchor against any tides.. Three years on, they were still falling in love with each other.

“Lavender or white?” Donghyuck asked again, holding the swatches between his fingers. 

Mark leaned back in his chair, pretending to think deeply, though he already knew he would choose whatever made Donghyuck smile. “You,” he said, softly, and Donghyuck rolled his eyes, giggling. They spent hours in the sunlit drawing room, tasting wines, debating linen textures, and letting their laughter echo over the estate.

They were finally getting married. 

The idea had been planted months ago, on a sun-drenched cliff in Peru, where Mark had pulled Donghyuck close and asked him if he would be his forever. Donghyuck had laughed, heart hammering, before saying yes, and the memory of that moment, the wind in their hair, the golden light spilling over the mountains, the quiet intensity in Mark’s eyes had never left them. 

Mark found himself following Donghyuck around the vineyard, pretending to check on the seating arrangements while secretly watching him inspect every flower with a soft pout. Donghyuck caught him staring once, smirked, and tugged him by the tie toward the nearest lavender bush. “Hyung, pay attention,” he teased, and Mark leaned in, brushing a strand of hair behind his ear. They laughed, hiding in plain sight, pretending to plan but really savoring stolen touches and whispered nonsense about which petals were prettier.

In a tiny boutique tucked into the corner of the estate they had rented in the French countryside for the wedding, Mark watched Donghyuck twirl in designer suits and vests, each more ridiculous and dazzling than the last. “Stop showing off,” Mark murmured, eyes darkening with desire. Donghyuck smirked and spun again, slow this time. Mark’s hand lingered on the small of his back under the fabric, and Donghyuck pressed closer, whispering, “You like it, don’t lie.”

While tasting the cake, Donghyuck insisted on trying every layer separately, smearing frosting across his fingers and licking them shamelessly. Mark couldn’t resist reaching over, pretending to scold him but secretly enjoying the messiness. “You’re impossible,” he muttered, and Donghyuck grinned, “I know, that’s why you like me.”

They mapped out the seating arrangements on a sprawling parchment, marking each guest with meticulous care. Donghyuck leaned over Mark’s shoulder, murmuring suggestions while resting his chin on his arm. Mark adjusted a few names, pretending to ignore the warmth of his body pressed close. “Hyung, you’re too serious,” Donghyuck teased softly. “And you’re distracting me,” Mark replied under his breath. They bickered playfully about who should sit where, but every argument ended in laughter.

One afternoon, they wandered along the gravel paths of the estate, testing flower arrangements for lighting in the golden afternoon sun. Donghyuck twirled beneath an archway of roses, spinning like a dancer, and Mark laughed so hard he nearly fell. “You’re ridiculous,” he gasped, still holding onto Donghyuck’s hand. “Ridiculously perfect,” Donghyuck corrected, leaning close, brushing his lips against Mark’s jaw before running ahead again.

They spent a morning sketching out the table decorations together, Mark holding a pencil awkwardly while Donghyuck guided his hand. “You’re hopeless at this,” Donghyuck said, laughing, and Mark shrugged, “I’m better at tasting wines than arranging flowers.” Donghyuck leaned in, pressing his forehead to Mark’s, whispering, “Then stick to what you’re good at, hyung.”

One evening, they wandered into the vineyard alone, pretending to inspect the vines but really slipping into the shade of a distant oak tree. Donghyuck leaned against Mark, resting his head on his shoulder, and Mark draped his arm around him naturally. 

Mark found himself photographing Donghyuck obsessively, camera hanging from his neck as he followed him through fields of lavender. Donghyuck posed, exaggeratedly serious at first, then broke into goofy grins, pulling Mark close for impromptu kisses in front of the lens. “You’re ridiculous,” Donghyuck said, though his eyes glimmered with amusement. Mark only smiled, clicking more pictures.

The family visited the estate just once during the final week, awkwardly wandering through the decorations, commenting politely on the flowers and table settings. Donghyuck and Mark held hands under the table, pretending not to notice the awkward glances. They smiled and nodded at their families’ tentative acceptance, relief threading through every motion. Seeing Jeno happy beside Jaemin, content in his own life, helped them breathe a little easier. 

We’re really doing this,” Mark murmured, voice soft. 

Donghyuck smiled, “Yeah, finally. And we’re doing it our way.”

And then came the morning. “I can’t believe this day is finally here,” Donghyuck whispered, fingers entwined with Mark’s as they walked toward the ceremony arch. The French countryside stretched endlessly around them, golden sunlight spilling over rolling hills, wildflowers brushing the edges of the pathway. Guests were seated, hushed murmurs filling the air, but all Donghyuck could see was Mark, the familiar warmth in his eyes making his chest tighten with anticipation. He squeezed Mark’s hand, smiling nervously, heart racing like it always did when they were together. The gentle breeze carried the faint scent of lavender and roses, and for a moment, the world seemed to exist only for them.

Mark adjusted his cufflinks for the third time, glancing at Donghyuck through the corner of his eye, a small smile tugging at his lips. The sunlight glinted off the tailored fabric of his suit, perfectly crisp, and he looked impossibly elegant. Guests murmured, cameras clicked, and yet Mark’s attention never wavered from Donghyuck. He bent slightly, whispering something inaudible, just enough to make Donghyuck laugh. 

The string quartet began the first notes of their chosen song, delicate and stirring, and the groomsmen started their measured walk down the aisle. Donghyuck’s heart skipped a beat as he turned slightly to see the familiar faces, all smiles and admiration, yet his gaze kept returning to Mark. He felt a rush of emotion, a dizzying mix of gratitude, excitement, and a pinch of disbelief that they had made it here. Mark caught his eye again, a knowing glimmer passing between them, unspoken words of reassurance and love exchanged in that single glance. The gentle sunlight warmed Donghyuck’s skin, and the soft rustle of the countryside seemed to cheer them on.

Donghyuck’s turn came to speak his vows, and his voice, filled the open air. “Mark, you are my compass, my chaos, my calm,” he began, and Donghyuck’s breath caught in his throat. Donghyuck spoke of the time they had lost and found each other, of the adventures across continents and everything about Mark that made him happy (it was an endless list.) Mark felt tears prick the corners of his eyes, the words resonating deep in his chest, a balm to every heartbreak and every longing. The sincerity in Donghyuck’s eyes made Mark’s knees feel unsteady, and he gripped Donghyuck’s hands tightly. “I choose you, now and forever,” Donghyuck whispered, and the world seemed to pause around them.

Mark's voice trembled as he returned his vows, fingers lacing through Donghyuck’s tightly. “Hyuckie, you’ve shown me love in ways I didn’t know existed,” he admitted, heart pouring into each syllable. You’ve been my sanctuary, my mischief, my sunlight in every storm. I love you with every fragment of me, and I will choose you every day, in every way, for the rest of our lives.” Mark’s eyes shimmered, a wetness forming at the edges, mirroring Donghyuck’s own emotions. 

When the officiant pronounced them spouses, a collective gasp and cheer echoed across the fields, and Donghyuck felt Mark tug him into a tight embrace. The weight of the past, the months of separation, all seemed to melt away in that moment. The countryside air smelled faintly of lavender and earth, mingling with the warmth radiating between them. Guests clapped, some wiping tears from their eyes, but Donghyuck and Mark existed in a bubble, cocooned in their triumph and love.

During the first dance, Donghyuck rested his head on Mark’s shoulder, feeling the warmth and strength emanating from him. Mark held him gently, guiding their steps with careful attention, every movement intimate. The world seemed to blur around them, leaving just the two of them swaying in harmony. Toasts were made, laughter shared, and tears shed. Donghyuck listened to heartfelt words, occasionally glancing at Mark, who returned each look with a soft smile. Every speech seemed to affirm the strength of their journey, their resilience, and the love they shared. Donghyuck’s heart swelled at the thought of finally being recognized, in every sense, as Mark’s.

As the ceremony concluded, a hush fell over the crowd before the applause erupted. Donghyuck and Mark turned to face their guests, waving shyly, blushing despite the confident smiles they wore. Friends and family began approaching to offer congratulations, but Donghyuck didn’t let go of Mark’s hand once. As night deepened, lanterns flickered, casting warm light across the terrace. Donghyuck rested his head against Mark’s chest again, savoring the warmth and familiarity. 

Donghyuck sighed, melting into the embrace, whispering, “Forever, right?” 

Mark’s lips brushed against his ear, “Forever, sunshine.” 

⋆｡‧˚ʚ✈️ɞ˚‧｡⋆

[ track nineteen: trouble maker ]

The door clicked shut behind them, the soft wind from the French countryside night creeping in through the window.

Donghyuck practically tore at his clothes, restless, fingers fumbling with buttons and zippers, tossing shirts and trousers aside. Mark leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, an amused smirk tugging at his lips. “Somebody’s impatient,” he said, teasing.

Donghyuck’s eyes flashed, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips. “Well, sue me. You haven’t fucked me for a week,” he shot back, throwing a shirt across the room in his haste. 

Mark’s brow arched, the corners of his mouth twitching. “God forbid a man is busy and tired from his wedding preparations,” he said, trying to be stern, but his eyes glimmered with barely restrained desire.

Donghyuck stalked forward, closing the distance between them, voice sultry and teasing. “You better make it up to me quickly, Mark Lee,” he said, brushing against him, testing his patience.

Mark groaned, shaking his head, running a hand through his hair. “And here I thought I would make soft, slow love to you,” he murmured.

“You know damn well I’m not the vanilla type,” Donghyuck snapped, heat rising in his chest, “So shut the fuck up and do something quickly.” His fingers tugged at Mark’s tie, yanking him closer, his lips curling into a smirk full of challenge and mischief. Mark chuckled, tilting his head, letting the tension stretch between them like a live wire.

With a swift, practiced movement, Mark pushed Donghyuck onto the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. He hovered for a second, grinning down at him, voice husky. “I knew your ass couldn’t handle me being nice to you,” he whispered, lips brushing Donghyuck’s ear, “So don’t worry, I came prepared.” Donghyuck’s eyes widened, pulse jumping at the promise in Mark’s tone.

Mark shuffled to the drawer, fingers rifling through until he brought up a sleek vibrator. Donghyuck blinked, a mixture of shock and delight flashing across his face. “What the fuck? What kinda devil did I unleash?” he breathed, voice slightly trembling from the mix of anticipation and disbelief.

“Four years ago, you would call me crazy for even suggesting this,” Donghyuck muttered, trying to mask the flush creeping up his neck. Mark’s smirk widened as he approached the bed again, gliding onto his knees beside Donghyuck. 

Mark leaned close, voice low and teasing. “Do you ever stop talking?” he said, thumb brushing lightly over Donghyuck’s hip.

Before the younger could even register it, he felt the vibrator flick on and pressed against his already leaking cock. He threw his head back in a daze, moaning so loudly. Mark positioned it perfectly, one hand gripping Donghyuck’s waist, the other holding the device steady. 

“Look at you, baby,” Mark whispered, his voice low and teasing, “All spread out for me, trembling, begging, and I haven’t even started yet.” Donghyuck moaned, biting his lip, the sound muffled but still echoing against the wall. Every pulse of the vibrator sent shivers through his body, and he was already fighting to keep his hips still.

Mark leaned down, nipping at Donghyuck’s neck and shoulders, making him shiver, even as he increased the intensity on the vibrator. “You like that, don’t you? All ruined for me?” Donghyuck’s moans grew louder, head thrown back, nails digging into the bed as he struggled to control the quivering of his hips.

Donghyuck’s voice was barely audible as he whispered, “Hyung..” trying to reach for Mark’s hand, but Mark blocked him, laughing softly. “No touching yet, baby”

His body shook violently as the vibrator continued, Donghyuck crying out in overstimulation, every nerve alight with pleasure, “F-fuck, hyung- I can’t, please,” he stammered, but Mark only leaned closer, whispering filthy praises in his ear.

Mark held Donghyuck’s hips steady, letting the vibrator do its work while he kissed and nipped along his shoulders and neck. “You’re mine, baby. Only mine. Feel that? You’re trembling for me, begging for me,” he breathed. 

Finally, with a strangled cry, Donghyuck came apart beneath him, quivering and sobbing, completely overwhelmed. Mark held him close, whispering possessively, letting the vibrator hum against him until he finally pulled it away. 

“Hyung, you’re insane,” Donghyuck whimpered, voice breathless and pleading, but Mark only smirked, pressing the vibrator lightly against his hole, teasing him further, letting him squirm in helpless desperation.

“Weren’t you so desperate baby, I am sure you can take this,” Mark murmured, holding him tight as Donghyuck’s body shook anew. 

Before Donghyuck could protest, Mark pushed in two fingers in his hole. “Look at you, baby, such a mess for me,” he murmured, teasing the sounds of pleasure that slipped from Donghyuck’s lips. Donghyuck’s knees trembled, and his breath came in ragged gasps.

“F-fuck, I can’t-” Donghyuck whimpered, trying to pull back, but Mark held him steady, pressing his hips flush against him.

Mark leaned in, nipping gently at Donghyuck’s shoulder as he increased the pace, the slick sound of wet skin and friction filling the air. “Such a perfect little slut for me, baby,” he murmured, watching every desperate whine that escaped. Donghyuck’s hands clutched at the sheets, hips bucking uncontrollably.

“You’re gonna come for me, aren’t you, baby?” Mark whispered, curling his fingers expertly, teasing the prostate. 

Donghyuck’s head fell back, eyes squeezed shut, lips parted in a silent plea, his entire body trembling. “Y-yes, hyung- can’t, please,” he begged, voice cracking under the intensity.

Mark chuckled softly, pressing his palm against Donghyuck’s back, feeling him tighten and shiver. The pace quickened, fingers stretching him just right, the sensations driving Donghyuck over the edge. Mark’s grin widened, whispering, “That’s it, baby.. let it all out for me.”

With a strangled, shuddering scream, Donghyuck came undone under Mark’s skilled fingers, hips jerking and body shaking uncontrollably.

Mark pulled back just slightly, letting Donghyuck catch a shaky breath, his body trembling and glistening with sweat. But he didn’t let him rest for long. With a dark, possessive grin, Mark positioned his cock, pressing against Donghyuck until he felt the tight, wet heat envelop him.

Donghyuck gasped sharply, his back arching as Mark slid in slowly, savoring every inch of him. “Hyuck, you’re so tight, baby,” Mark murmured, voice low and rough, one hand gripping Donghyuck’s hip, the other bracing him against the bed. Donghyuck moaned, biting his lip, trying to hold back the trembling that wracked his body.

Mark started moving with slowness, letting Donghyuck adjust, pushing deeper with each stroke. “You feel so good, baby, every inch of you,” he groaned, eyes dark, tracing every reaction of Donghyuck’s face. Donghyuck’s nails dug into the sheets, his moans growing louder, uncontrolled.

The intensity built quickly as Mark’s rhythm became firmer and rougher, dragging groans from both of them. “You like this, don’t you? Being taken like this?” Mark whispered, his lips brushing Donghyuck’s ear, and Donghyuck shuddered violently, nodding, gasping for air, completely lost in sensation.

Donghyuck’s hips bucked instinctively, trying to meet him, and Mark chuckled darkly, leaning down to press his chest against Donghyuck’s back. “Such a good little boy for me, taking me so well,” Mark murmured, each thrust driving Donghyuck closer to the edge.

Mark picked up pace, fucking him with more urgency, hands gripping his hips tightly. “You’re mine, baby. Only mine,” he whispered, feeling Donghyuck tremble under him, the moans spilling out uncontrolled..

Finally, with a strangled cry, they both came undone around each other, body trembling, muscles tightening uncontrollably as Mark rode out every shudder. Mark groaned, feeling the tight, warm embrace of Donghyuck close around him, still continuing to fuck him.

Mark slowed slightly, holding Donghyuck close, whispering possessive praises into his ear as they both gasped for breath. Donghyuck slumped into Mark’s chest.. His body shivered with aftershocks, entirely wrapped around him, both still trembling from the intensity. 

Finally, Mark adjusted slightly, holding him tightly against his chest, running fingers over his back, letting them both slowly come down from the overwhelming intensity. “You’re mine, baby. Always,” he whispered. Donghyuck nodded, burying his face in Mark’s chest, completely surrendered.

The room was quiet except for the soft sound of their breathing. Donghyuck rested against Mark’s chest, tangled in the sheets, his body still warm. Mark’s arm stayed draped over him, holding him close, feeling every rise and fall of his chest.. Neither of them moved much, letting the lingering warmth settle.

Donghyuck tilted his head slightly, letting his cheek press further into Mark’s collarbone. He traced idle patterns along Mark’s shoulder with his fingers. Mark’s hand rested lightly on the back of his head, simply holding Donghyuck.

The moonlight filtering through the curtains fell on their skin, painting soft patterns across their entwined bodies. Donghyuck breathed slowly, closing his eyes as a small sigh escaped him. “I can’t believe we’re finally married,” he murmured, voice so soft it was almost swallowed by the room.

Mark pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Donghyuck’s head, holding him tighter. “Me neither,” he said, letting the words linger in the air, letting them soak into the quiet stillness of the room. 

Donghyuck moved a little, nuzzling closer to Mark’s chest, breathing in the faint scent of his cologne. He reached up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind Mark’s ear, his fingertips lingering on his jaw. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Mark whispered. 

“I should’ve known you were the one for me the first time I saw you,” He continued after a pause, his hand tracing lazy circles along Donghyuck’s side. “Should have known it at the airport when I felt a little dizzy and my heartbeat increased upon realizing how beautiful you were.” 

Donghyuck let out a soft laugh, muffled against Mark’s chest, a mix of disbelief and warmth filling him. “No way,” he said quietly, his voice teasing but tender, eyes peeking up at Mark, “You’re serious?” 

“Oh baby, trust me,” Mark pulled him in a kiss, “I knew you were trouble when you walked in.”