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The bile was rising in his throat, it seemed like any time he thought of him lately the side of his face would tingle and his palms would sweat and his eyes would feel heavy, like the mere thought of being near him would cloud his mind and unsettle his soul.
It was heavier than he’d let on. In the moment it’d feel so light and easy. The brushes of the back of each others' hands on the walks back to class after skipping the period before just to walk into town and fuck around at the Starbucks that was just a ten minute walk away. It seemed lighter then.
But now, he must admit, as he laid in silence listening to Mark ramble on about some stupid thing he did a few weeks ago, the slight blush from the drinks adorning his cheeks, it hurt. Off-center on his head lay the headband that read Kiss me, a remnant of the trip they’d taken to Party City a few hours before the New Years party a few months ago. Donghyuck thought it was tacky, but it wasn’t as ugly as what Mark had drunkenly said to him all night, that he wouldn’t take it off until someone actually kissed him.
Mark took off the headband that night before Donghyuck could tell if he was serious or not.
And now, in Mark’s basement, his parents out for the night and his brother asleep upstairs, the headband back on to celebrate today’s occasion, Donghyuck hoped he could control himself for the night.
Being with Mark was excruciating sometimes. Sometimes he was light and exciting and impulsive and bold, like the feeling of jumping off buildings for fun, not because he wanted to die. He could be the feeling of ducking in the passenger seat because a cop pulled up next to them and Mark was on his permit and could only drive family. He was the embarrassment of throwing up, drunk, in the porta potty by their highschool football field because he just couldn’t keep it down anymore. He was the glory of blurry lights and car crashes. Of running from the cops, of running from the noise, of running from each other.
The lights had been dimmed, Donghyuck guessed Mark had done it when he had gotten up to get more drinks a few minutes earlier. Now Mark was sitting next to him on the small sofa in front of the tv where they’d been watching disney movies earlier, before they had realized how drunk they were with breaking free in the background.
Donghyuck hated Mark’s basement. Every time he’d been over he’d gotten high or drunk or somehow fucked up and, despite the thrill of thinking less, he always seemed more conscious of his actions, something more painful than the good time he always craved.
He wasn’t a quiet child, and was always ready to rush into the most exciting thing he could think of. He thrived on stupid situations, impuslive decisions, on running from things because they hurt to much. After Halloween last year, when he’d wandered the streets of the neighborhood so horrifically drunk with Mark that he had woken up still drunk the next morning, Jeno had sat him down and told him everyone thought he was running from something. Jeno was right.
Two months after that conversation, Donghyuck had told Jeno what scared him so much, why he thought it could only be solved by passing out drunk and chaining himself to the thing that made him so afraid.
Mark was dangerous sometimes. That was the scariest part. Mark could touch him casually, softly play with Donghyuck’s pinkies or hair with no meaning behind the actions. Mark could throw a leg over Donghyuck when he was too tired to get out an extra mattress when donghyuck stayed over and they fell into the same bed. Mark could wear stupid little headbands that say kiss me without finding anything wrong or scary or crazy about the look Donghyuck got in his eyes when he wore it.
Mark flipped, almost upside down, on the couch next to Donghyuck. His head rested on the seat with his legs awkwardly stacked upon the back, where his head should rest if he were sitting normally. Mark continued to talk about how much he hated his teacher or how he liked vodka more than rum or how a freshman tried to take his locker. Donghyuck couldn’t really tell what he was saying, he could just stare blankly at him. He let his eyes roam from Mark’s big eyes, pupils dilated in the low light, to his hair that looked mussed and greasy. He wasn’t always pretty. Donghyuck always took note when he looked less than handsome, when he was able to find Mark unattractive, as if it were a trophy proving he wasn’t in as deep and the people around him swore he was.
He had lost energy as the night wore on. He always ended up tired when he drank, while Mark always seemed more wound up. Mark could be explosive like this; a cork popping and his freed ideas flowing up behind his eyes to light a glint that, if donghyuck looked at in the right light, could set fire to his insides the way a match left too close to a curtain could cause the whole building to burn.
Donghyuck slumped down to the floor, intent on resting his knees on the rug and pressing his face in his arms and resting his head on the coffee table in front of them. If he tried hard he might be able to drown Mark out, even though he knows his constant and smooth voice was what calmed him down enough to rest.
Mark didn’t let him though. He stopped talking as soon as Donghyuck started sliding down. By the time his knees had hit the ground, Mark had flipped back over and started to sink down to Donghyuck’s level. This was dangerous again. Mark was dangerous to Donghyuck.
He had been for years at this point, Donghyuck thought in his slowed state; Mark was a trap, honey that would rot him from the inside out if he ever allowed himself to have a taste. He was poison that went down smooth, much smoother than any of the other poison he’d been forcing into his body to combat the presence of the boy that was by his side. Mark was always there. He always had stars in his eyes, but Donghyuck knew they weren’t all lit up for him. His eyes could hold constellations; could hold bulls and matadors, could hold the beauty in war and the devastation in adoration.
Mark was freckles and dirty white Converse and mud splashing and skipping class and bruises and kiss me and-
“Donghyuck,” he said. He sunk down lower to fully face the boy next to him, picking up his hand to reach out but drawing it back, as if reconsidering.
Donghyuck stilled warrily, blinking his eyes a few times to wake himself up and hoping he wouldn’t remember what Mark was about to say in the morning. He liked it more when he could forget Mark like this. This mark was too sincere, too gentle, too dangerous.
“Hyuck would you look at me for a sec?” It scared him, but even like this he couldn’t resist the fire of the stars he knew he’d see burning in Mark’s eyes. He looked up fully, shifting his weight and looking at Mark again. He looked smaller like this, with both of them slightly smushed between the couch and coffee table.
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry for this, Hyuck, but I want to ask you something. It’s late and we’re tired and I know you probably won’t remember this tomorrow,” (Donghyuck hoped he was right), “but I’ve been wearing this stupid headband for ages and I want to know if…” He trailed off. Donghyuck hoped he would stop talking altogether.
He held his breath, eyes wider than they were when he started his question. For a moment it was just the sound of the two boys breathing in the room. Donghyuck blinked.
“I was wondering if you would want to…. If you would want to kiss me, I mean.” A blush had spread further across his cheeks as he raised an awkward hand to the back of his neck.
Donghyuck blinked again. Breathing becoming still as he let the force of Mark’s words rushed at him like a wave, drowning him in thoughts and fears and wishes and consequences.
He breathed out once, twice, and whispered, barely-there as he stared into Mark’s big, wide, devastating eyes, “Yes.” Mark's breath hitched.
He felt Mark’s fingers move from where they were laid on his lap slowly lift towards his face. Donghyuck stilled, gulping and closing his eyes. He was scared and he was about to let the only thing that had plagued him tear him to pieces by his own volition. Mark had a way with words sometimes, but Donghyuck knew they were always empty. Mark’s fingertips lightly traced his jaw, moving so slowly it seemed the wave and crash he’d expected to knock him over and bury him would be prolonged, buried alive. He had never wanted anything more than for Mark to touch him like this. His fingers left shards of glass that glittered like gods in their wake. Donghyuck loved it.
His fingers reached his lips and traced them gently, as if Mark believed Donghyuck would shatter if he touched any harder. Donghyuck knew he’d shatter no matter how hard Mark touched him.
His other hand moved to grip the side of Donghyuck’s face. He knew that if he opened his eyes to look at Mark, he’d see the world he thought he knew crumbling. He kept them shut.
“Hyuck,” he breathed, “I’m going to kiss you.”
And he did.
It was gentle, smooth. It was a fire extinguished in his soul. It was a rebirth, Donghyuck thought. Mark’s lips were soft as he moved them delicately, tentatively against Donghyuck’s own.
It was brief but it held more feeling than anything he’d felt in his entire life. Donghyuck opened his eyes and he was met with what he expected after a kiss like that. He saw Mark’s eyes wide with the stars he knew only Mark was capable of holding. He smiled; relieved, exhausted, enamored. He sat back and turned.
His head fell to Mark’s shoulder. He smiled again and found Mark’s fingers within his own. They fell asleep, hoping to remember it in the morning when the light would fall just perfectly on their faces and the whole world would appear golden and glowing.