Archive of Our Own ^beta

The tension in the NCT 127 practice room was immense. Everyone has been stressed out lately, the pressure of their upcoming comeback looming around them. Tonight, however, all the frustration seemed to be focused on one person. Onto Haechan.

“Haechan, what was that?” Taeyong snapped, his voice sharp enough to cut through the heavy bass of the music. Simultaneously Jaehyun quickly turned off the song. “You were completely off for the entire song. Are you even trying?”

“I am trying, hyung,” Haechan muttered, keeping his eyes fixed on the ground, his voice quiet. 

“Trying?” Yuta scoffed from behind him, stepping closer. “It doesn’t seem like it. You’ve been half-assing our practices all week long. Are you even taking this seriously?” His voice had some bite. 

“I am,” Haechan replied, his voice even quieter now, almost robotic.

Johnny crossed his arms, his usual easygoing demeanor replaced by frustration. “Then why does it feel like we’re the only ones putting in any effort? You’re supposed to be one of the main vocalists, but even your energy’s been completely off. Our comeback isn’t going to do well with you slacking off like this.”

Jungwoo chimed in next, his tone harsher than usual. “If you’re tired or distracted, you need to say something instead of wasting everyone’s time. This isn’t just about you, Haechan. You’re bringing us all down.”

The words piled on, one after another, each cutting deeper than the last. Haechan stood there, his expression blank, his hands clenched at his sides. He didn’t argue, didn’t flinch, didn’t react. He just took it. This was normal, or at least beginning to be normal. He was always yelled at, blamed and shamed. 

Mark watched from the corner of the room, his jaw tightening as he observed the scene unfold. 

“Haechan, are you even listening to what we’re saying?” Taeyong demanded, his frustration mounting.

Haechan blinked slowly, his mind drifting somewhere far away from the room and the voices around him. He nodded absently, but he didn’t speak, he didn’t defend himself or give a reason. 

It was that lack of response that finally made the others pause.

Johnny frowned, his arms uncrossing as he took a closer look at Haechan’s face. “Are you… even here right now?” He tried making eye contact but Haechan just kept his gaze to the floor. 

Yuta’s eyes narrowed, but his voice softened. “Why aren’t you saying anything?”

It hit them all at once: Haechan wasn’t ignoring them out of defiance—he was simply used to it. Used to them berating him. Used to being yelled at. 

The realization sent a wave of discomfort rippling throughout the group. 

“Haechan…” Taeyong began, his tone hesitant now, but it was much too late.

Haechan turned silently, walking to the corner of the room to grab his bag and things he had rushed earlier to bring to the practice. His movements were slow but deliberate, as though he was holding himself together with sheer force of will.

“Haechan, wait—” Doyoung started, but Mark cut him off with a dark glare. 

“Don’t,” Mark said sharply, his voice cold in a way that made everyone freeze. He grabbed his own bag and followed Haechan out the door without another word, but he did send an angry glare to the rest of the members. 

Haechan didn’t stop walking until he reached the stairwell of the building, where he leaned against the wall and exhaled shakily. His hands were trembling as he dropped his bag to the floor and allowed himself to breathe properly.

Mark caught up to him quickly, dropping his bag at the bottom of the stairs after closing the door behind him. “Hey,” he said gently, his voice a stark contrast to the yelling from earlier. “Are you okay?”

Haechan let out a bitter laugh, though it lacked any humour at all. “Do I look like I’m okay?”

Mark stayed silent, waiting.

“They’re always shouting at me,” Haechan said finally, his voice breaking a bit. “I’m always the one screwing up. Always the one they’re frustrated with. And I get it, okay? I know I’m not perfect. But sometimes, it feels like no matter what I do, it’s never good enough for them. I’m working so hard, with Dream and 127 it’s just so hard.” 

His breathing hitched, and he quickly wiped at his eyes, trying to stop the tears from falling from his watery eyes. However, the weight of the moment—of everything—was just too much to bare. The first tear fell slowly, and then another, until they wouldn’t stop flowing down his cheeks.

Mark’s heart cracked at the sight. He had never seen Haechan cry before, not like this, and he hated it.

“I’m so tired, Mark,” Haechan whispered, his voice trembling. “I’m so tired of trying so hard and still being the problem. What am I doing wrong?”

Mark stepped closer, his hand reaching out instinctively to touch Haechan’s shoulder. “You’re not the problem, Donghyuck,” he said firmly in a reassuring tone. “You’re not doing anything wrong.”

Haechan looked up at him, his eyes puffy and his face streaked with tears, and something in him gave way. Without thinking, he buried his face into Mark’s chest, his shoulders shaking as he let himself cry in front of Mark for the first time. He felt so overwhelmed by everything. 

Mark froze for a split second when Haechan buried his face in his chest. The unexpected closeness caught him off guard, and for a moment, he wasn’t sure what he should do. But then he felt Haechan’s shoulders shaking, the quiet sobs muffled against his shirt, the tears through his shirt, and his instincts took over.

Gently, Mark let his arms wrap around Haechan, one hand settling on his lower back while the other moved to his soft hair. He hesitated briefly, then began to run his fingers through the soft strands, slow and deliberate to soothe Haechan. 

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to.

And for Haechan, that was enough.

The soothing motion of Mark’s hand in his hair, the steady rise and fall of his chest—it was grounding in a way Haechan hadn’t expected. He felt safe. Mark had that effect on him. 

After a few minutes, Mark leaned down slightly, almost unconsciously, and placed a light kiss on the top of Haechan’s head in his hair. It was fleeting, barely there, but it lingered in the stillness between the two of them.

Haechan stilled, his body momentarily going rigid.

He pulled back slowly, lifting his tear-streaked face to look at Mark with disbelieving eyes. “Did you just kiss me?” He asked with surprise. 

Mark blinked, realizing what he’d done. A small, sheepish smile tugged at the corner of his lips, but there was no regret in his expression. “Maybe I did.”

Haechan’s mouth opened and closed, his cheeks quickly flushing a deep red. “You… kissed me?” he repeated, his voice higher than usual.

Mark couldn’t help but laugh lightly at Haechan’s reaction, the sound low and warm—a complete contrast to his usual laugh. “Yeah, I kissed you. Why are you so surprised?” He teased lightly, glad to see Haechan stop crying and be a bit distracted. 

“Why am I surprised?” Haechan sputtered, his voice cracking slightly. “You don’t even like when I hug you most of the time! Let alone hold your hand… And now you’re—” He waved his hands vaguely, still too flustered to form a coherent sentence.

Mark tilted his head, his grin widening. “I like seeing you flustered,” he admitted, his tone teasing but gentle. “It’s kind of cute.”

Haechan’s mouth fell open again, and he covered his face with his hands, groaning. “You’re unbelievable, Mark Lee. Unbelievable.” Haechan was in a bit of shock from everything going on. 

Mark laughed, a genuine, lighthearted sound that filled the stairwell. “I mean it, seriously. You’re always so confident and playful. It’s nice seeing a different side of you sometimes.”

Haechan huffed, still embarrassed but no longer upset. “Don’t get used to it.” He said with a slight pout. 

Mark raised an eyebrow. “Not making any promises.”

For a moment, they just looked at each other, the tension from earlier melting away. Haechan couldn’t explain it, but he felt much better after his short time with Mark in the stairwell. 

“Thank you,” Haechan said softly, his voice steady now. “For… everything today.”

Mark nodded, his hand brushing against Haechan’s shoulder. “Anytime.”

Mark didn’t move away after placing his hand on Haechan’s shoulder. Instead, he took a small step forward, his expression unreadable as his gaze stayed locked onto Haechan’s.

Haechan instinctively took a small step back, and his back hit the cool concrete wall of the stairwell. He blinked up at Mark, confused, his lips parting slightly in surprise.

“Hyung?” Haechan asked softly, his voice tinged with curiosity and something else—something hesitant, almost shy.

Mark didn’t respond right away, his own thoughts swirling as his eyes flickered down to Haechan’s lips. He hadn’t meant to corner him, but now that they were so close, he couldn’t seem to pull himself away.

The air between them grew heavier, and Haechan noticed the way Mark’s breathing had slowed slightly, the way his eyes kept darting to his lips. He felt his own heart speed up, his cheeks still burning from the earlier kiss on his head.

“Mark…” Haechan started, but his voice faltered a bit as Mark’s head leaned in, just a centimetre closer.

Their eyes met again, and for a moment, neither of them moved. The tension was almost unbearable between them, and Haechan, ever the playful one, would usually have made some teasing comment to break it or change the topic. But right now, he couldn’t think of a single thing to say. He didn’t even know if he wanted to say anything. 

Mark’s hand came up, resting lightly against the wall near Haechan’s head. His other hand hovered by Haechan’s arm, as though he wanted to touch him but wasn’t sure if he should.

“Haechan,” Mark murmured, his voice low and a little unsteady.

Before Haechan could reply, Mark dipped his head, his lips brushing against Haechan’s with a hesitance that made Haechan’s knees feel weak. Haechan’s eyes widened before he closed them tightly as Mark leaned in further, giving him a proper kiss. 

The kiss was soft at first, tentative, as if Mark was giving him a chance to pull away. But when Haechan’s hands reached up to grip the front of Mark’s shirt, pulling him closer, that tentative edge disappeared from the moment.

Mark tilted his head, deepening the kiss, and Haechan let out a soft, surprised sound against his lips. Mark’s hand slid from the wall to cup Haechan’s jaw, his thumb brushing lightly over his cheek as their movements grew bolder and as he adjusted Haechan’s head to be perfectly positioned for them to continue. 

Haechan’s fingers tightened in Mark’s shirt—threatening to rip it—and he pressed closer, his heart pounding against his chest in a way that felt entirely new—not like after a long practice or performance. The heat between them was undeniable, and for once, Haechan didn’t have a single sarcastic remark to make. Nothing to say at all. 

Mark's lips moved quicker against Haechan’s, his tongue slipping into the younger’s mouth. 

Haechan’s breathing hitched as he kissed back with just as much enthusiasm. He didn’t expect for Mark to kiss him on the head, let alone on the lips. Though he could not say he was complaining in any way, shape, or form. There was nothing to complain about. It was like Mark’s lips molded perfectly against his own. 

Time seemed to blur as they lost themselves in the kiss, Mark’s hand moving to hold Haechan by the waist, neither of them noticing the faint sound of footsteps approaching from the hallway. 

The stairwell door steadily creaked open.

“Haechan, I just wanted to—”

Doyoung’s voice cut through the haze like a bucket of ice water.

Mark and Haechan froze, pulling apart so quickly that Mark nearly stumbled backward. 

Doyoung stood in the doorway, his mouth hanging open as his gaze darted between the two of them.

“I… um…” Doyoung stuttered, clearly unsure how to process what he’d just walked in on. How to dissect the situation. 

Haechan’s face went bright red, and he pressed his back further against the wall as though it could somehow swallow him whole and hide him from the world. Mark, on the other hand, straightened his shoulders and ran a hand through his silky hair, his cheeks flushed but his expression more composed than Haechan’s. 

“Doyoung hyung,” Mark said, his voice calm despite the awkwardness of the situation. “Did you need something?” He asked. 

Doyoung blinked a few times, still stunned. “I… was going to apologize to Haechan, but clearly, I interrupted something between you two.”

Haechan groaned, covering his face with his hands. “This is the worst day of my life.”

Mark laughed softly, his hand brushing against Haechan’s arm in a way that felt both reassuring and possessive. “It’s not too bad,” he murmured, though his teasing tone made Haechan glare at him through his fingers.

Doyoung cleared his throat, his own face turning slightly pink. “Right. Well… I’ll just… um go.” He backed out of the stairwell, still glancing at the two before pulling the door shut behind him.

As soon as he was gone, Haechan slid down the wall, burying his face in his hands again. “I’m never showing my face in practice ever again,” he mumbled.

Mark crouched down in front of him, a small smile playing at his lips. “Relax. He’ll get over it… eventually.”

Haechan looked at him from between his fingers, his expression still flustered but softening. “You’re really something, hyung.”

Mark shrugged, leaning back slightly. “You’re the one who started this.”

Haechan scoffed, his lips twitching into a reluctant smile. “Crazy.”

Mark and Haechan sat there at the bottom of the stairwell for a couple minutes longer, gathering themselves after the whirlwind of emotions and events. Haechan still felt extremely embarrassed about what had happened, but Mark’s presence made it easier for him to breathe.

“Are you ready to go back?” Mark asked softly, offering his hand to Haechan.

Haechan hesitated before taking it, letting Mark pull him to his feet. “I guess I don’t really have a choice, do I?” he muttered, his usual sass creeping back into his tone.

Mark smirked. “That’s more like you.”

They walked back to the practice room in silence, their shoulders brushing occasionally. When they reached the door, Haechan stopped, his hand hovering over the handle.

“You good?” Mark asked, watching him carefully, not wanting to push him too far.

Haechan nodded, though his grip on the door wavered. “Yeah. I just…” He exhaled, trying to steady himself. “I think I need to explain something to them.”

Mark gave him an encouraging nod. “I’m right next to you.”

That was enough to give Haechan the courage to push the door open and face the other members. 

Inside, the room was eerily quiet. The other members were scattered around, their expressions varying between guilt and awkwardness—no one saying anything to each other. 

Taeyong was the first to look up, his lips pressed into a thin line when he saw Haechan entering alongside Mark. 

“Haechan,” Taeyong began, standing up. “We—”

“Wait,” Haechan interrupted, raising a hand. “Before you say anything, I need to explain something to you all.”

The room grew silent again as everyone turned their attention to him.

Haechan shifted uncomfortably under their gazes but pressed on. “The reason I’ve been off tonight… it’s not because I don’t care or because I’m not trying and putting little effort in. It is because I’ve already had ten schedules today and I’m really tired. I know that’s no excuse—“

The room erupted in shock.

“Ten?!” Johnny’s eyes widened. “You’re joking, right?”

Haechan shook his head. “I had a photoshoot in the morning, then a recording session, a variety show taping, a fitting, and a couple of interviews. I didn’t even have time to eat properly before coming here tonight.”

The guilt in the room grew tenfold.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Doyoung asked quietly, his voice laced with regret.

Haechan shrugged, avoiding their eyes. “I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. I thought I could push through, but I guess it showed more than I realized.”

Taeyong’s jaw tightened, and he ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “That’s… ridiculous. Who even gave you that many schedules in one day?” A tint of anger was heard in his voice.

“We need to talk to the company about this,” Yuta said firmly, his usual teasing demeanor replaced with a rare seriousness. “That’s way too much for anyone to handle.”

“I’ll handle it,” Taeyong said, his tone resolute. “This shouldn’t have happened in the first place.”

Jungwoo stepped closer to Haechan, his expression soft. “I’m sorry. We’re all sorry. We shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions and yelled at you like that.”

The others echoed his sentiment, one by one.

“Yeah, Haechan, we were way out of line,” Johnny admitted. “We’ll make sure this doesn’t happen again.”

Haechan looked around at them, his walls cracking slightly as he saw the sincerity in all of their faces. “Thanks,” he said silently. “I just… I know I mess around a lot, but I’m trying, you know? I’m really trying.”

“We know,” Taeyong said, stepping forward and placing a hand on Haechan’s shoulder. “And I’m sorry for what I said earlier. I didn’t mean it.”

Haechan nodded, his lips quirking into a small understanding smile. “It’s okay, hyung.”

Mark stayed close to Haechan’s side throughout the conversation, his presence a silent source of comfort for Haechan. 

As the group began to regroup, Taeyong clapped his hands. “Alright. Let’s wrap up for tonight. Haechan, go home and rest. No arguments.”

Haechan grinned, the tension finally lifting. “Yes, sir.”

As the group began packing up, Doyoung caught Haechan’s eye and gave him a small, knowing smile. He didn’t say anything about what he’d seen in the stairwell, and Haechan silently thanked him for it.

When they all headed out, Mark lingered behind with Haechan, his hand brushing against his forearm.

“You okay now?” Mark asked, his voice low so the others wouldn’t hear, wanting to ensure Haechan was actually feeling better. 

Haechan glanced at him, his smile soft and genuine. “Yeah. Thanks to you, hyung.”

Mark smirked, leaning down slightly to whisper in Haechan’s ear, “Don’t get used to it.”

Haechan rolled his eyes but laughed brightly.  He and Mark still had to talk about what happened in the stairwell.