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They’d met when Donghyuck had been forcibly moved into an advanced math class at fifteen. He hadn’t wanted to study a grade higher, but his parents and teachers had agreed it would be for the best.
“The stuff you’re learning is below your level now,” his mother had explained.
“I don’t care.” He’d been a stubborn kid. Having to sit through math was bad enough without a class full of upperclassmen, and he didn’t care if he was bored while the rest of his friends worked hard at the problems he’d already solved. Being bored and surrounded by people he liked was better than having something to do while surrounded by strangers.
But his mother was stubborn too. To have raised Donghyuck, she had to be. “It’s demoralising for the other kids to see you finish the work so easily. It’s demoralising for me to see you have no ambition for something you’re clearly very good at.”
And he didn’t like it, but he knew that whatever argument he could think of, his mother would have a counter for. If she was going to give in, she’d have done it already.
So he moved into advanced math and sat in the middle of a room full of sixteen-year-olds that looked scarier than they had any right to. Donghyuck was well liked, but his friends were two floors down, studying fractions instead of algebra.
“Hey,” the boy next to him had whispered. He had a bad bowl cut and silver braces. “Do you have an eraser?”
He’d solved the problem perfectly. Donghyuck couldn’t understand why he needed an eraser, but he passed his over anyway. It was a little cartoon bear his mother had given him as part of a birthday bundle. All of his stationary had bears on it.
“Woah,” the boy had said, “Dude, where did you get this? It’s super cute.”
“It was a birthday gift.”
The boy scrubbed at his work until the page was wrinkled but clear. He passed the eraser back, one of the bear ears now warn down, lopsided. “Thank you.”
“It’s okay,” Donghyuck had replied. He stared at the boy for a while, who worked hard at solving problems and chewing his pencil into a fine wooden paste. He was cute. Like the bear eraser, in an almost lopsided way. Like if he had dog ears, one would be up and the other would be folded. “Hey.”
The boy looked up.
Why Donghyuck was nervous, he couldn’t say. “I don’t know anyone in here.”
“I know. Ms Kim said before you came in that you’re from the grade below. Wanna be friends? My dad said you can never have too many.”
It was a kind thing for a sixteen-year-old to do for an insecure kid. “Yeah,” Donghyuck had replied, already half in love. He was very aware that kindness wasn’t considered to be cool at his age, which made the question mean even more.
“Cool. I’m Mark.”
“I’m Donghyuck.”
“Nice to meet you, Donghyuck.” Mark looked back to his clean page, then rewrote the same answers he’d written previously.
It had been an excuse to talk to Donghyuck and offer him some solace in an unfamiliar setting, but Donghyuck hadn’t realised that until half a year later, and by that point it was too late. He was already in love, and the realisation that Mark was even more of a sweetheart than he’d thought didn’t have much of an impact. The fountain was already overflowing, and another drop proved inconsequential.
If Donghyuck were to look back and write a list of all the sweet things Mark had done, he’d run out of paper before he ran out of examples.
-
Even the rejection had been sweet.
“I love you dude, but not like that,” Mark had said at seventeen. His hair looked better, but he still had the braces.
Donghyuck had confessed under the willow tree at the back of the school field. Mark’s friends were playing baseball during their lunch period, but he’d ditched them to listen to Donghyuck’s clumsy declaration of love. “Oh,” Donghyuck had managed. “Okay.”
His heart was fracturing in the encompassing way only a teenager’s could, but Mark’s answering hug dulled the edge of the blade slightly. “You’ll always be my best friend,” Mark had whispered into his hair. “Whatever happens, I love you, okay? I’m sorry I don’t return your feelings in the same way, but that doesn’t mean I don’t adore you.”
A dull blade still pierced, but Mark looked so damned earnest when he pulled back to make sure Donghyuck wasn’t crying. “You don’t owe me anything, it’s fine,” Donghyuck had said, abstractedly proud when his voice didn’t waver. “Love you too.”
They’d hugged again, and Donghyuck had picked his heart off the floor when Mark ran back to play baseball.
-
The fountain was still overflowing.
It kept pouring after a rejection, after Mark got his first girlfriend at eighteen, his first boyfriend at nineteen.
Donghyuck graduated, went to university, and studied math. He got used to his broken heart crunching in his chest like an empty eggshell. He got used to the fountain running.
Getting over Mark was impossible, because every time they met again he’d improved in some way, blossomed into someone even kinder, sweeter, smarter, more beautiful. It was a kick to the stomach each time, but the ache that lingered felt almost nice. It was familiar, at least.
Donghyuck had been in love with Mark almost as long as he’d known him, which made it difficult to sever from their relationship – and even if he could, he didn’t know if he would.
Their visits were sparce during college, because life often got in the way of any kind of love. They used messenger and zoom and facetime, and Donghyuck congratulated Mark on every good grade, every new partner. Mark did the same for Donghyuck, though his smile was always marred by caution when Donghyuck mentioned a new boyfriend. He wasn’t good at finding nice ones.
-
When Donghyuck finally graduated, older, wiser, and officially fucking sick of math, Mark was halfway into his master’s in modern poetry.
Donghyuck was aimless, not including his new aversion to math.
“Come and visit me,” Mark had said over the phone, subdued in a way he rarely was. “It’s been months since we’ve met up, and I miss you.”
Donghyuck hummed, staring at his ceiling. He had an interview for a local bookstore the week after next. “I can do next weekend, but I have to be back by Tuesday.”
“That’s okay. Whatever time you have, I want it.”
He smiled and wondered, faintly, how many times he’d been in this exact position, staring at his childhood ceiling and smiling because Mark Lee had said something vaguely romantic. “I’ll book a train then.”
“Do that,” Mark said, still soft. “I’ll let the guys know you’re coming. We can have a movie night.”
“Sounds fun.”
“It will be. You didn’t reply to that loser’s text, did you?”
No, he didn’t. It was sat in his inbox, unread. I miss you so much. A weird text to receive after being called a disappointing tease. “I haven’t replied.”
“You promise?”
“I promise, Mark. I won’t take him back.”
“Good. He was a piece of shit.”
“He still is,” Donghyuck said, amused. Mark only knew the half of it; if he knew everything in the way that Renjun did, maybe he wouldn’t be so kind.
No offence, Hyuck, but we’re going in different directions, or – I’m going in a different direction. You don’t seem to be going anywhere. After that blow, being called disappointing almost felt like nothing.
The thought of Mark’s staunch defence was comforting, but not something Donghyuck wanted to act on. He liked Mark just as he was, sweet, soft, always so gentle.
“I’ll see you next week then,” Mark said.
“And I’ll see you.”
“I can’t wait.”
“You can, and you will.”
Mark sighed, but he only half succeeded in making it sound annoyed. “Fine.”
Donghyuck continued to smile at his ceiling like a fool. When they eventually hung up, he curled up onto his side and read the text, then deleted the conversation and blocked the number. It wasn’t the first he’d blocked, and it probably wouldn’t be the last, but Mark’s chat popped up, a picture of a bear cub and a puppy sat together. U and Jeno!!!
He smiled again, like a fool.
Always like a fool.
-
It never stopped aching, and the fountain never stopped flowing, but that was just life. The benefit of Mark’s friendship outweighed the con of heartbreak.
Mark picked Donghyuck up from the station and swept him into a tight hug that smelled like teenage daydreams and summer nights running through fields, chasing the setting sun, laughing despite the imminent grounding they knew they’d receive once they made it home.
Donghyuck buried his head in Mark’s neck and enjoyed the touch. There’d been a period of three years right in the middle of their friendship, when Mark had been stressed about his future and his personality and his grades and his relationships, and he hadn’t liked touch from Donghyuck then. It had ended a year ago, and now Donghyuck savoured each embrace, just in case it was the last.
“There you are,” Mark whispered. His warm, minty breath tickled the shell of Donghyuck’s ear. He’d cut his hair again, short and cute and a little too crispy to be healthy. He felt like home in Donghyuck’s arms.
“Here I am,” Donghyuck replied, trying not to act to obvious about the way he was sniffing Mark’s neck.
“Once you finish huffing me do you wanna grab lunch before we meet up with everyone?”
He hid his wince behind a cocky smile. “I just can’t believe you showered for once.”
Mark squawked, but he still tried to pay for Donghyuck’s lunch like he always did. He still looked fond when Donghyuck wrestled the bill out of his hands and used his dwindling savings to cover Mark’s watermelon smoothie addiction.
It was weird to think about, if he actually let himself think about it. Nothing was new between them after so many years of friendship. Each step landed on a pavement worn down by cycled patterns, smooth to the touch from the tread of their feet. If Donghyuck were more romantic, he’d think of it like a ballroom floor instead. Every time Mark smiled and Donghyuck was spun it felt like the first time, but his shoes squeaked on wood that had seen him spin a thousand times before.
“He’s missed you more than usual,” Chenle complained during the movie. He looked grumpy, but his hand was in Donghyuck’s hair, scratching gently at his scalp. “Wouldn’t shut up about your visit.”
“It’s been a long couple of months.”
“Almost summer,” Chenle agreed. “Maybe we can Air B&B again, get somewhere for a week as a group.”
That sounded nice. With Jeno and Jaemin starting their master’s, Renjun already neck deep in an internship, they’d probably need a good summer break.
“How are you and Jisungie?”
Jisung, who was currently trying to wrestle the takeout menu from Mark’s unrelenting grip.
Chenle rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. “University is hard, but we’re doing our best. That’s all we can do.”
“Who could have known you’d grow up to be so wise?”
“I knew.” They both looked over to Mark, who had apparently decided to start listening in. He grinned at Chenle, proud. “I knew you’d be wise. You’ve always been smart.”
“That makes one of us,” Chenle said, deserving the way Mark kicked him. He giggled, wiggling his brows at Mark, then kept laughing at something Donghyuck and Jisung apparently couldn’t see. “We’re heading out soon. It’s been good to see you both.”
“We haven’t ordered food yet,” Jisung said, a confused frown pressed into the corners of his mouth.
Whether he deserved the ensuing kick or not, Donghyuck couldn’t say. What he could say was that Chenle herded Jisung out of the apartment with practiced ease, and though Mark laughed the entire time, there was something subdued in his eyes that Donghyuck couldn’t place, the same quiet that was in his voice whenever they spoke, every time they spoke. It had been there for weeks now, heading into months.
“So,” Mark said, just before they settled into his bed together, freshly showered and in their night clothes (both wearing Mark’s shirts and boxers), “I wondered if you wanted to go out tomorrow.”
“Sure, where to?” Donghyuck asked, plugging his phone in. “Do you have something in mind?”
“The beach?”
It was half an hour on the bus. The weather was still chilly, but the sun was out more often than not. “That sounds good. I’m in.”
Mark turned the light off. They were both on their backs, staring up at the ceiling. Cosy in the sheets. “Would you like to do dinner afterwards?”
“Yeah, that sounds nice too.”
Mark’s quick inhale was loud in the following silence. Then, after another long, quiet second, “Could we make it a date?”
Disappointing tease.
Donghyuck turned to look at him, but in the darkness he couldn’t see anything. “What?”
“I like you,” Mark murmured, “As more than a friend. Can we go on a date tomorrow?”
Mark was doing a master’s degree. He wanted to be a poet. He wanted to work in publishing.
What the fuck was Donghyuck doing? There were only two aspects of his personality: loving Mark and hating math.
He wanted to say yes. I never stopped loving you.
But the words wouldn’t come out.
All Donghyuck could think about was, ‘I’m going in a different direction. You don’t seem to be going anywhere.’
“No,” he whispered, “I don’t think I can. I’m sorry, Mark.”
The answering silence only lasted for a moment before there was a touch against his cheek, warm as it always was. The back of Mark’s hand, stroking his skin softly. “Okay,” Mark answered, quiet but steady. “We’ll go to the beach as friends, then. Like normal.”
“I still love you,” Donghyuck said, almost desperate to get the truth out. It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t what Mark needed to hear.
Mark laughed quietly. “Silly,” he replied, fond. “I love you too. That will never change.”
Neither of them slept.
-
The breeze that had tickled in the city felt like needles beside the sea. Donghyuck huddled further into his coat and watched as Mark did the same, closer to the water, skipping stones into the frothy waves.
They were both exhausted, but the company hadn’t changed. They ate breakfast together sleepily, then Mark dozed on Donghyuck’s shoulder for the bus ride. Donghyuck knew it would be his turn to doze on the way back. They were still in the same dance, spinning the same circles.
I like you as more than a friend.
When the hell had that happened? Why had it happened?
He wanted to ask, but that wouldn’t be fair. Not now. One of Mark’s steps had slipped, new floor had been touched.
“Mark?” Donghyuck called.
Mark spun around, wide eyed behind his glasses. He jogged over. “Yeah? What’s up?”
“What changed?”
Why did your foot slip?
Mark blinked. He scrunched up his face in a cute way that Donghyuck had squealed about at fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, twenty, twenty-two years old. “What do you mean?”
Fuck being fair. He’d been a stubborn kid, and he’d grown into a stubborn man. Mark could blame Donghyuck’s stubborn mother. “When did you start liking me?”
“Oh.” Mark looked back out at the ocean and shrugged. He took his time considering how to reply, and Donghyuck let him. “Weirdly, I can’t think of a specific moment. It’s just like – and I mean, please don’t take offence, but you have awful taste in men.”
Donghyuck couldn’t help but laugh. “You think so?”
“They’re all so mean.” Mark scowled, but the expression gentled before he said, “I don’t know when, but at some point over the last year my thoughts went from ‘They shouldn’t treat you like that,’ to ‘I would treat you the way that you deserve.’ I don’t know, man.”
It shouldn’t have been so easy to talk about, but things were always easy between them. Even this uncharted flooring was known – they’d built it, after all. With steady hands and gentle devotion, they’d built the ballroom they danced in.
“Do you remember when I confessed to you as a kid?”
“What, when we had math together?” Mark laughed. “Yeah. I had a crush on Margery at the time.”
Donghyuck knew that. He’d cried about it for days. “Fuck Margery.”
“Yeah, fuck Margery. She let my hamster out of his cage and he ran away.”
Donghyuck knew that too. It’s why he’d said it. “I don’t have any goals, Mark. I don’t know what I’m doing right now.”
Mark looked back at him, squinting against the sun. “Right now? You’re at the beach, with me. You’re enjoying the peace.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“It can be, if you stop pressuring yourself to know everything. Only Chenle knows everything.”
“Why do you like me?”
Mark smiled. It was the expression of a man with his heart on his sleeve, a boy with a bear eraser in his hand. “Because the world is a big, scary place, and I realised that you’re the place that feels like home.”
“I never stopped,” Donghyuck whispered.
“Never stopped what?”
“Loving you.”
Mark sighed. “Shit, Donghyuck,” he said, “We have a lot of time to make up for.”
Donghyuck was in a fugue state, somewhere between collapsing and jumping into Mark’s arms. “We don’t,” he said. “If we’d dated as teenagers I would have dumped you. You were too angsty.”
Mark laughed, but it was muted. “And now? Would you dump me now?”
“Ask again,” Donghyuck said instead of replying. “The question from last night.”
“Can we go on a date tomorrow?”
“Yes,” Donghyuck said. “After the date I’ll answer if I’d dump you. I can’t make up my mind before I test the waters.”
Mark pulled him close. He rubbed their cold noses together. “Annoying.”
Donghyuck was going to start crying soon, he could feel the pressure building behind his eyes. “It’s always felt like we were dancing,” he mumbled, nonsensical. “But I felt like I was the only one that could see it.”
“Sorry,” Mark whispered, closing his eyes. “Guess I was too focused on my footing.”
Donghyuck leant up and kissed him, and for that one beautiful second, they were experiencing something new.
Donghyuck had stopped spinning, and the ballroom was still.