Chapter Text
When Johnny asks him to join the residents for lunch, Mark is over the moon.
In fact, he’s over the moon twice and over Pluto a couple more times. It’s not the first time such a courtesy is handed to him but Mark is always willing to wring it for every drop.
“You look like your eyes are going to roll out of their sockets,” Jeno whispers under his breath as they line up behind the residents at the serving station, trays clanging against metal. “Breathe, hyung.”
“I am breathing,” Mark mutters back, stepping forward when Taeyong’s done piling his plate with scrambled eggs. He scoops himself a single serve, and waits for his turn at the bacon station, “Not well, but breathing all the same.”
“You’re such a nerd,” Jeno snorts. Mark looks over to glare at him, “What? It’s true.”
Jeno has never been one to pull back on his punches, not even when they’d first met in Anatomy 101 in medical school. As expected of the cohort’s ace, Jeno already knew the names of every single bone in the human body and Mark was honestly still stuck on memorizing just the limbs.
It’s been a while since then, days packed with studying and sleeping and crying blurred all together. Miraculously, Mark and Jeno both made it to St. Michael’s Medical Institute, Teaching and Research Hospital - or St. Micks, for short - for their internship placement.
Soon after, they were assigned to the same resident for their internship rotations - Lee Taeyong, senior resident specializing in neurosurgery, who Mark heard about long before he actually met him.
From the younger residents (mostly Kim Jungwoo), Taeyong’s often described with awe; of his ability to juggle a dozen tasks at once, his sharp decision-making under pressure, and how he seems to know everything before anyone catches on.
Mark looked up to him, to say the least.
“Liking to learn new things and techniques doesn’t make me a nerd,” Mark throws back. “Besides, you went to med school too so that automatically makes you a nerd.”
“Agree to disagree,” Jeno shrugs, plating himself two slices of bacon. “I just mean - Donghyuck’s right, you’ve been hanging out with the residents a lot lately.”
“What am I supposed to do? I’m assisting on that high-profile case,” Mark hums. He decides on one pancake, drizzling it with an ungodly amount of maple syrup, “Johnny says it’s been a long time since three of them worked together. It’s really good timing that we’re in cardio with him now.”
Johnny Suh, chief resident with a specialization in cardiothoracic surgery, and currently the supervisor for Mark and Jeno’s cardio rotation of their internship.
Jungwoo - Mark learns everything from the second-year resident - mentioned that when Johnny was promoted to chief resident, it didn’t come as a surprise to anyone. With his charming smile, Johnny’s naturally the resident everyone gravitates to.
Nakamoto Yuta forms the final third of their little trio, known for his loud, confident personality and sharp wit. His sarcastic remarks are always delivered with a grin, and he has a knack for lightening the mood even when things are tense.
Despite this, Yuta - senior resident in orthopedics - is always meticulous, never rushing a procedure and always thinking two steps ahead.
“You really are a nerd,” Jeno tells him as they’re following the residents to an empty table by the back of the cafeteria. He sidesteps when Mark tries to shove him over, “Look, he’s already glaring at you.”
Mark twists around until he spots where the rest of the interns are, huddled comfortably in another corner of the large hall.
Lee Donghyuck, self-proclaimed best friend to one Mark Lee, sits amongst them, eyes trained straight for the older boy. He doesn’t bother hiding his disappointment, lips pulled down in a disapproving frown. He makes sure Mark registers his unhappiness before turning to the side, probably to shoot Jisung an off-handed comment.
Mark remembers their first time he’d met Donghyuck.
It was day one of their internship and they were standing around in an OR, listening to an attending from the board of directors drone on and on about the fascinations of the theatre.
In the middle of all that, Donghyuck somehow picked Mark out of the lot of nervous interns, latching onto him without hesitation.
“You look like you could use a friend,” Donghyuck said, and went on before Mark could get a word in, “and lucky for you - I’m a great one.”
Since then, Mark has come to terms with the whirlwind that is Donghyuck - quick-witted, sharp-tongued, and completely unapologetic. It didn’t even take him a week to be roped into Donghyuck’s orbit; yanking Mark across campus to find the best vending machines, dragging Mark to eavesdrop on the gossip at the nurses’ station, getting Mark to test out questionable cafeteria food before ordering any for himself.
Mark has accepted Donghyuck’s infectious energy - the constant chaos in his life that never wavers when it matters.
Over the last week though, he isn’t sure what he’s done wrong - sure, he’s been caught up in rotations, but Donghyuck’s attitude has been different lately. It’s like he’s constantly on Mark’s case and for no good reason. He can tell it’s more than just his busy schedule - the tension feels off.
Like there’s something unsaid hanging between them.
Right at this second, Donghyuck looks as if he could take Mark’s head off with a scalpel.
Mark turns back to Jeno, “What am I supposed to do about it?”
Jeno stares at him, then sighs, “Nevermind.” He gives Mark a piteous look before crossing the hall and taking the seat between Jaemin and Jisung, much to Donghyuck’s blessing.
Lunch is quick but feels interminable.
When the seniors finally disperse, Mark hesitates at the edge of the cafeteria. His gaze falls on the interns, still chatting and laughing over shared trays of lunch.
More specifically, his gaze falls on Donghyuck.
“It’s fine, you’re fine,” Mark mutters under his breath, steeling himself. He crosses the room, trying to shake off the lingering unease. The noise around him seems to dim as he approaches the table.
“Hey,” he starts, attempting a casual smile. “How’s it going?”
Donghyuck doesn’t even glance at him at first, focusing instead on his drink, straw swirling through the melting ice. Jeno and Jaemin trade looks; Renjun and Chenle mumble something in Mandarin; Jisung looks deeply absorbed in his mac and cheese.
When Donghyuck does look up, the smile Mark had so carefully put on falters.
“How’s it going?” Donghyuck repeats, sharp enough to cut. It’s a kind of intonation Mark’s learned to endure, but today, it’s laced with a little more venom than he’s used to, “Didn’t think you’d remember us down here.”
Mark tries not to sigh, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing,” Donghyuck leans back in his chair, fiddling with his chopsticks. He doesn’t look like he wants to give Mark the time of day, “Just didn’t know the residents were taking interns as honorary members now. Guess we’re not good enough for you anymore, are we?”
“Come on, Hyuck,” Mark lets out a weary breath, already dreading the conversation that’s about to unfold. He glances at the other interns for help but none of them meet his gaze, “You know that’s not true.”
“Oh, do I?” Donghyuck tilts his head, expression an exaggerated mockery of thoughtfulness. “I must’ve missed the memo between all the times you’ve ditched us.”
Mark tugs on his coat, “You’re really giving me a hard time just because I’m doing my job?”
Something flashes across Donghyuck’s face and his irritation seems to dwindle. His eyes flit around to the rest of the interns at the table, suddenly aware of how sharp his words are. He sets his chopsticks down with a loud clatter, “Fine. Whatever. But it wouldn’t hurt if you joined us every now and then, y’know?”
Mark nods, smarting from the comment despite knowing he hasn’t technically done anything wrong. He opens his mouth to respond, but before he can, Donghyuck stands, chair scraping loudly against the floor.
“I gotta go.” Without looking back, Donghyuck throws a final, “Hope you’re at least having fun playing the residents’ favorite.”
Mark stares after him, heart sinking in his chest. He’s not sure what feels worse - the sting of Donghyuck’s words or the way he hadn’t done anything to stop Donghyuck from leaving.
“He’s just sensitive,” Jisung offers after a long pause, soft, almost apologetic. “Don’t take it personally, hyung.”
Mark nods, not knowing what else to say, and so the conversation shifts, and the tension eases into the background. But even as the chatter resumes, Mark can’t shake the nagging feeling that there’s more to this than just being busy.
--
Clinics are, most arguably, the most tedious part of their internship.
It’s a requirement to log hours that count towards their residency: a balance of clinical observation and hands-on practice, all while navigating the often chaotic flow of walk-ins, scheduled visits, and the occasional emergency.
At two in the morning, Mark wonders if anyone would notice if he took a nap in Examination Room 1.
“I think it’s sweet that he misses you so much.”
Mark looks up from where he’d been charting a patient’s visit, “Who?”
“Who else could I possibly be talking about?” Renjun snorts. He’s leaning over the counter, clinic tablet in his hands, “He spent the whole of last night’s shift on a gurney complaining to Sungchan and I about how you brushed him off last week.”
Mark racks his brain for that exact moment, sighing when he comes up empty.
Renjun goes on, “I get that you’re busy and everything but I don’t know - you might want to talk to him about it.”
“About?”
“Did you not hear a word I just said?” Renjun asks, not unkind. He locks the iPad and sets it down, “Donghyuck’s been giving you a hard time all week because he misses you, hyung. More so than the rest of us, I might add.”
Mark rolls his eyes, “Not you too.” He shrugs when Renjun makes a face, “Jeno might’ve mentioned something to me. And I made it clear that it’s just rotations.”
“Yeah, well, maybe it’s not just that.” Renjun taps his fingers along the side of the iPad like he’s trying to pick the right sentences to string together. “It’s like you’re his person, y’know? When you’re not around, he’s... off. He doesn't really let anyone else in the same way.”
Mark blinks, processing Renjun’s words, the rhythm of his pen tapping against the paper slowing as he thinks.
His person?
He knows he’s always been Donghyuck's go-to, but that’s just how their friendship works, isn't it? They’ve always been this close. Mark’s never questioned it.
But now, hearing it out loud, it feels different. Like maybe there’s something he hasn’t seen, something that’s been simmering beneath the surface all along.
“I don’t know,” Mark mutters. He rubs his eyes with the heel of his palms, “It’s really not like I’m ignoring him on purpose.”
Renjun taps the iPad awake, sliding it unlocked and tapping away into the system, “I’m not saying you are. Just keep an eye on him, alright? He’s not really mad at you - he’s just... a little more attached than you think.”
“Attached?”
Renjun nods once, “And he’s not the type to just come out and admit it.”
Mark takes a breath, sleep-addled brain trying to digest whatever Renjun’s saying. He makes a mental note to pay more attention, even if he doesn’t fully get it, “I’ll talk to him later.”
Renjun gives him a reassuring smile and leaves to check on the next patient. Mark remains standing by the counter for a moment, wondering just what on earth is going on.
--
The next time Mark sees Donghyuck, they’re alone in the locker room, the silence between them now familiar and heavy.
“Hey,” he says, watching Donghyuck stride in with a packet of trail mix in his hands.
Donghyuck’s light blue scrubs hang loosely on his frame, the fabric slightly wrinkled from a long shift. Beneath them, he wears a fitted, long-sleeved undershirt, its dark color making the pale blue of his scrubs stand out even more. The sleeves cling to his tanned arms, accentuating the lean definition there - more wiry than muscular.
His ID badge dangles from the lanyard around his neck, slightly askew from hours of movement, the edges of its plastic casing scuffed and worn. A pen peeks out of his scrub pocket, its cap chewed absentmindedly, and there’s a faint smudge of something - ink or coffee - near the hem of his top.
His hair, a little longer than the hospital’s standards probably allow, curls faintly at the ends, messy from running his fingers through it one too many times. There’s a hint of tiredness in his posture, the way his shoulders slope slightly forward, but his sharp, fox-like eyes are alert as he scans the room.
You’re his person.
Donghyuck pops a cashew between his lips and Mark’s eyes follow the action
He opens his locker, “On a break?”
Donghyuck’s gaze sweeps over Mark, once, twice.
Mark knows Donghyuck is considering the level of hostility needed to engage in conversation with him - just how long is he going to drag out this unspoken battle?
Thankfully, Donghyuck seems to decide that he’s not up for a fight this evening. He shakes his head, “Avoiding Taemin hyung.”
Lee Taemin, one of the hospital’s attendings heading the Plastic, Reconstructive and Aesthetics department - and also Donghyuck’s supervisor for his current intern rotation.
“You can’t run from plastics forever,” Mark says, picking his doctor’s coat up before Donghyuck can sit on it. He leaves it hanging off one of the coat hooks, watches Donghyuck kick his feet up on the benches, “It’s honestly not that bad.”
“It’s not bad, it’s boring,” Donghyuck complains, sighing grievously. “I don’t understand why I have to take a month of this when I already know I’m destined for trauma.”
Trauma, the department Donghyuck excels in: Mark would agree.
For a very brief moment, Mark gets a semblance of how their conversations used to go - free of sharp words and barbed remarks about Mark’s supposed determination and aspirations.
“It’s called a holistic approach, Hyuck,” Mark says, throwing Donghyuck a pointed look. He shrugs a shoulder, “Besides, Taemin hyung’s one of the best surgeons in the country - don’t you want to shadow and study under him?”
Donghyuck snorts, “You mean just like how you’re constantly attached to The Powerpuff Residents?” He tosses an almond into the air and catches it with mouth, “No, thank you.”
Here we go again.
That was nice while it lasted.
“Really,” Mark deadpans. “The Powerpuff Residents?”
“You can’t tell me Taeyong hyung isn’t actually Dr. Bubbles,” Donghyuck matches his even tone. He nudges Mark’s knees with the side of his foot, “Yuta hyung would be Dr. Buttercup, of course.”
Mark swats Donghyuck away, “And Johnny hyung is Dr. Blossoms?”
Donghyuck sneers, “He’s your favorite, isn’t he?”
“I don’t have a favorite,” Mark throws back. He’s never understood where Donghyuck’s hostility for the residents came from; he doesn’t recall Donghyuck having this much of an issue with the other residents in the program. He shuts his locker, “What are you actually mad about?”
Donghyuck freezes, hand hovering in the air, “What?”
“You’re mad at me, aren’t you? Everyone seems to think so.”
“Why would they think that?”
“How am I supposed to know?” Mark mutters. He leans against the row of white lockers, arms crossed over his chest, “You’ve been coming at me for the past week.”
“I’m not mad,” Donghyuck answers quickly. He shoves a handful of trail mix in his mouth, chews ferociously, “You’re just - spending a lot of time with the Powerpuffs, that’s all.”
Mark raises a brow, “I told you. It’s work.”
Donghyuck rolls his eyes, “You’re impossible.” He stands, unable to sit still any longer, “Do you even remember the last time you hung out with us for lunch?”
Mark thinks about it seriously, lips tugging downwards. He’s been running around for hours on end, he can barely remember the last time he actually sat down for a break, much less a meal with the rest of the interns.
“You don’t, do you?” Donghyuck exhales heavily. His hair falls over his eyes as he shakes his head, “You’ve officially abandoned us, Mark Lee.”
There’s something under Donghyuck’s teasing cadence, but Mark can’t place it with genuine anger. He pulls his stethoscope out of his locker as he rushes to come up with a comeback, sliding it around his neck.
“Everyone’s busy,” he says eventually.
“Not as busy as you apparently,” Donghyuck mutters under his breath, loud enough for Mark to catch, of course. He sighs when Mark snaps up to glare at him, “Look, I’m sorry I was on your ass at lunch. It’s just annoying - we haven’t hung out in ages.”
Ah.
He misses you.
Does he really?
Mark gives him a smug look, elbowing his locker shut, “What? You miss me, or something?”
“Don’t be an idiot,” Donghyuck bites back, but the twitch of his lips tell a different story. He offers the trail mix like an olive branch, “You’re the de facto leader of the interns. What are we going to do when you’re constantly off gallivanting with the Powerpuffs?”
“It really is just work,” Mark insists, plucking free an M&M from the trail mix; he knows Donghyuck leaves them for him to snack on. “Besides, I’m pretty sure you only have this much to say because plastics is boring you out of your mind.”
Donghyuck seems to think it over before agreeing, “I don’t know how much more studying of skin cells I can take.”
“You say that now but when you’re stitching up some celebrity’s face after a botched nose job, you’ll be singing a different tune,” Mark teases, tossing the M&M into his mouth with a smirk.
Donghyuck groans, “If I wanted to play arts and crafts, I’d have gone to design school.” He follows when Mark grabs his coat and moves to leave the locker room, “Meanwhile, you’re out here kissing the ground Dr. Blossom walks on.”
Mark gives him a sidelong glance as they enter the halls, “You really are bored.”
“I am,” Donghyuck sighs, “I don’t think I can take it any longer, it’s like preschool with scalpels. I’m not even trying and it’s still too easy.” He huffs, “Maybe that’s why your irritable absence is so painfully obvious - I need something to keep me awake.”
“So you do miss me,” Mark triumphs.
Donghyuck chokes on a peanut, “Don’t flatter yourself.”
That’s not what everyone else is saying.
“If my very important presence is what keeps you going,” Mark laughs, “I guess I’ll make more of an effort to come by more often.”
“That’s literally all we’re asking for,” Donghyuck says with a dramatic flair. He follows Mark down the hallway, headed for the wards, “Which brings me to: Jeno assigned me to remind you about tomorrow.”
Mark blinks, racking his mental schedule, “Right. Tomorrow.”
“I knew you’d forget,” Donghyuck laments. They eventually find themselves standing in front of the elevators at the end of the hall. Mark reaches out and waves at the button to call it up, the soft glow of the indicator lighting up beneath his palm, “Jaemin’s surprise birthday party? Remember?”
“Oh,” Mark tucks his hands into his pockets. “Yeah.”
“You forgot, didn’t you?”
“Yes, yes, Hyuck. I forgot.”
“Then consider yourself reminded,” Donghyuck says. He steps into the elevator after Mark, “You’re coming, right?”
“I’ll try,” Mark says honestly. He registers them for the eighth floor, distantly wondering if he’s going to have to go through the rest of his shift with Donghyuck hovering over him like a personal dark cloud, “It really depends on my schedule.”
Donghyuck’s lips press into a thin line, “Depends?”
“You know how it is,” Mark counters. He leans against the back of the elevator, holds onto the railings, “You nearly lost your mind when you were on rotation with Dr. Bubbles.”
“And if I recall, I still made it to that extravagant dinner Chenle hosted when his family flew in from Shanghai,” Donghyuck points out. Mark reaches over for another M&M, “Just… don’t flake, okay? It’s Jaemin.”
“I’ll do my best,” Mark doesn’t want to promise, not when he’s still not entirely sure why Donghyuck is so upset.
“Right,” Donghyuck says shortly.
The elevator stops on the eighth floor and Mark steps out, turning back to find Donghyuck still in the elevator, hand over the floor buttons.
“You weren’t heading to the wards?”
“No,” Donghyuck leans on the side of the elevator. It must be the light because there’s a faint flush on his cheeks, “I just followed you up here because I needed to talk to you.”
Mark’s chest tightens with guilt, “Oh.”
“See the lengths I go through to keep our friendship alive?” Donghyuck weeps sarcastically. He jabs the Close button twice, wiggling his slender fingers goodbye when Mark mumbles a soft Thanks, I guess.
--
The beeping monitors fill the room with a steady rhythm.
Mark shifts his weight from one foot to the other, watching as Johnny listens to a patient’s chest with a stethoscope, calm and attentive. They’re rounding on Mr. Kang, a middle-aged man recovering from a triple bypass surgery.
“Mr. Kang,” Johnny says, smooth and reassuring, “your vitals are looking stable. How’s the pain today?”
“Better than yesterday,” Mr. Kang replies, albeit weakly. “But it feels... heavy, you know? Like my chest is holding a weight.”
“That’s normal after surgery like this,” Johnny explains as he straightens up, sliding the stethoscope around his neck. “Your body’s still adjusting. But if it feels like it’s getting worse, let us know right away.” He turns to Mark, nodding towards the dossier, “Let’s review his post-op meds. What’s he on right now?”
Mark flips through the chart, scanning the list quickly, “Beta-blockers, aspirin, and a statin. No changes from yesterday, but his blood pressure was a little higher last night.”
Johnny glances at the monitor, brows furrowing just slightly, “Alright. Let’s keep an eye on that. We might adjust the dosage if it trends upward again.” He pauses, giving Mark a sidelong look, “What do you think? Anything else we should be considering?”
“Uh,” Mark blinks, momentarily caught off guard. “Maybe - monitor fluid retention? Check for any signs of post-op complications?”
Johnny beams, “Good. Always think a step ahead.” He turns back to Mr. Kang, offering a warm pat on the man’s shoulder. “We’ll come by again later. For now, rest up. You’re doing great.”
“Thank you, Dr. Suh.”
As they step out into the corridor, Johnny slows his pace, letting Mark catch up.
“I heard the clinic’s booked the rest of the interns today,” Johnny says as Mark falls into step, juggling the stack of dossiers in his arms. “You didn’t have to volunteer any time?”
“I clocked in the extra hours last week,” Mark says. Then, rather sheepishly, tacks on, “I wanted to make sure I made it for Mr. Kang’s post-op review.”
Johnny laughs, and it bounces off the walls, lights sunshine on to the ceiling, “You’ve got your heart set on cardio, don’t you?”
Mark grins, “Pretty much.”
“That’s good to hear,” Johnny hums. He flicks through his pager before tucking it back into his pocket, “I knew I wanted to specialize in cardio when I was an intern too. Nearly passed out watching Dr. Wong try to stop a ruptured aorta but I could never forget the first time I felt a human heart - completely indescribable.”
Mark tries not to let the stars in his eyes come off as ridiculously obvious, so he nods attentively.
“We’ve got Mr. Jung next, yeah?”
“Yes,” Mark says, pulling Mr. Jung’s dossier free from his stack and handing it to Johnny. “Vitals are steady, labs came back clean - I checked in on him earlier this morning too.”
“Good,” Johnny flips through the dossier, eyes sharp as he skims through the pages. “How’s he holding up, nervous?”
“A little,” Mark adjusts the stack of files under his arm, “I tried to reassure him but it’s his first surgery and all.”
Johnny hums in acknowledgment, slowing as they near a large wall where the OR board is mounted, right by the nurses’ station.
It’s divided into rows and columns, each section meticulously labeled with patient details, surgical teams, and operating room assignments. Colored markers are used to differentiate cases - green for routine, red for emergencies, and blue for specialized procedures like cardiac surgeries.
When Mark approaches it with Johnny, he’s drawn to the bold lettering under OR 4 for Mr. Jung’s case:
Patient: Jung, Seungho (M, 65)
Procedure: Mitral Valve Repair (Open Heart)
Surgeon: Dr. Wong (Attending)
OR Time: 6:00 PM - 9:30 PM
“Here we go,” Johnny says, tapping Mr. Jung’s name on the list. “CABG, room four.” His finger trails across to the time slot, “Prepped and ready to go in thirty.”
Mark’s mind jolts at the reminder when his eyes lands on the time slot beside Mr. Jung’s name. 6:00PM. The same time Donghyuck had drilled into his head just this morning again, complete with a strict Don’t forget, hyung and a pointed jab to his shoulder.
Right.
Tonight’s Jaemin’s birthday party.
The thought pricks at him, uncomfortably wedged between his responsibilities and the half-promise he’d made to Donghyuck. It flickers in his mind for only a moment, fleeting and fraught, before Johnny’s voice cuts through his internal scramble.
“You’re planning on sticking around for this one, right?” Johnny asks, gaze sharpening as he glances at Mark. “Dr. Wong said he could use an extra set of hands in the room.”
Mark hesitates. His eyes linger on the procedure listed next to Mr. Jung’s name - Coronary Artery Bypass Graft. Open heart surgery. It’s a rare opportunity for an intern to observe, let alone scrub in.
“I…” Mark falters, looking towards the board then back at Johnny. His stomach churns with indecision. “Tonight’s kind of…” he trails off, not sure how to explain without sounding like a teenager.
Johnny tilts his head, sensing the hesitation. He closes Mr. Jung’s folder gently, “If it helps, open heart surgery isn’t a procedure you get to see everyday. If you’re thinking about cardiothoracic, this could be a really good learning moment.”
Mark straightens under the weight of the words and his fingers tighten on the stack of files. The image of Donghyuck’s disappointed frown flashes briefly in his mind, followed by the memory of the secret group chat buzzing about Jaemin’s party.
Jeno’s been planning it for weeks.
But…
Donghyuck would understand if Mark explained it to him, wouldn’t he? Even if he misses Mark at work, that’s all there is to it, right? There couldn’t possibly be anything greater at play here, could there?
This is his chance.
“I’ll be there,” Mark decides.
--
By the time Mark gets to Jeno’s place, the high from the surgery has worn off, leaving him acutely aware of how late he is. The muffled bass of music leaks through the door as he knocks, rolling his shoulders to try and rid the tension.
When Jaemin swings the door open, his face lights up and he pulls Mark into a quick one-armed hug, “Look who finally decided to show up!” He lowers his voice conspiratorially, “You’re about three hours late, by the way.”
“Happy birthday, Jaemin-ah,” Mark forces a laugh, stepping inside and toeing his shoes off. “And I’m - I really am sorry. Surgery ran over.”
Jaemin waves it off with a grin, “It’s alright, hyung. You didn’t miss much - well, except for Donghyuck’s big toast.”
“Toast?” Mark echoes, scanning the room for the unmistakable figure of Donghyuck, who’s nowhere to be seen.
“Yeah, he got all sentimental,” Jaemin says, adjusting the mini party hat on his head that reads Birthday Boy. He grabs a glass of fruit punch off the kitchen counter and hands it to Mark, “Said something about how we’re his favorite people in the world and that Mark Lee doesn’t deserve us because he’s too busy saving lives.”
Mark stiffens, guilt pooling in his chest, “He’s mad, isn’t he?”
“And he’s had more than a couple of drinks so you’d best tread lightly when you see him,” Jaemin says kindly. He leans back against the kitchen counter, “I think he’s just - sad, y’know. He thinks you keep ditching us for the Powerpuffs.”
“I really hope that name doesn’t get back to them,” Mark mutters. He takes a sip of fruit punch, wincing when he realizes it’s laced with a mix of alcohol, probably thanks to Chenle. “And I don’t know, what’s really going on with him?”
“What do you mean?”
“I feel like he’s hiding something from me,” Mark sighs. “He wasn’t like this during our last rotation. Is plastics really boring him that much?”
Jaemin arches a brow, “Is that what he said?” He scoffs when Mark nods, “As expected. Being bored with plastics wouldn’t explain his constant whining and complaining about how much he misses you.”
You’re his person.
Mark’s ears burn at the words, but he’s always known Donghyuck to be affectionate, “He says that?”
“All the time,” Jaemin snorts, his exhale bordering devilish.
Mark finds himself replaying moments with Donghyuck, noticing how the attention he gets from the younger boy always feels different - warmer, more insistent - than the way Donghyuck usually interacts with anyone else.
It’s a thought that crosses his mind only in passing. He doesn't dwell on it, never has, because he’s always seen it as just their dynamic - nothing more. He’s so sure of it. Donghyuck is just being Donghyuck, as always, pulling Mark into his orbit without meaning anything deeper.
Jaemin watches him closely, like he’s waiting for the epiphany to hit. When Mark doesn’t get knocked down by an eighteen wheeler, Jaemin jerks his chin towards the balcony.
“He’s out there if you want to talk to him. Or, y’know, make it worse.”
Mark pauses, fingers tapping against the counter. He knows Donghyuck’s temper too well, knows that catching him in the middle of a tipsy spiral could go either way.
But the words linger in his mind, echoing with a weight that’s too heavy to ignore.
With a sigh, he pushes off the counter, “Wish me luck.”
“Always,” Jaemin says, grinning as he grabs Mark’s abandoned fruit punch and takes a sip. “Try not to break his heart while you’re out there.”
“Do you know something I don’t?”
Jaemin shrugs, “Nothing you can’t find out yourself, hyung.”
Mark shoots him daggers but doesn’t respond. Instead, he weaves through the crowded living room, past the laughter and music, and steps out onto the balcony.
The cool air hits him first, a sharp contrast to the warmth inside.
Donghyuck is here, leaning against the railing with his head tipped back, figure outlined by the soft glow of the city lights. His beer bottle hangs loosely from his hand, and the stiffness in his shoulders is visible even in the dark.
Mark hesitates for a moment, gathering what’s left of his nerves before he calls out, “Hey.”
Donghyuck doesn’t turn immediately, back still to Mark as he continues to stare out at the city. The silence hangs between them like a tightrope, tension crackling in the cool night air.
Mark’s about to speak again when Donghyuck beats him to it.
“So, you finally decided to show up,” Donghyuck sighs, sharp despite the tipsiness coloring his words.
Mark bites back a groan, “It was open heart surgery, Hyuck. I couldn’t pass it up.”
“You couldn’t text me a heads up either?” Donghyuck keeps his face tipped to the skies, and Mark can see his lashes fluttering as he studies the stars, “I really thought you’d put us first this time.”
“I’m here now,” Mark says, “Doesn’t that count for something?”
Donghyuck’s reply is a single, curt syllable, “No.”
“Why are you turning this into a big deal?” The words leave his lips before he can stop them, frustration bubbling free. Mark clenches and unclenches his hands, “I’m only a couple of hours late, I still made it from the -”
Donghyuck spins around then, face flushed with more than just alcohol, “Oh? It’s just a few hours?” His voice rises, cutting through the stillness. “You really think that’s all it is?”
Mark steps forward, “Yeah, because you don’t seem to want to tell me anything about what you’re actually feeling.” He matches Donghyuck’s ire, “Seriously, Hyuck, I don’t get why you’ve been acting like this. It’s not like I’ve been avoiding you on purpose.”
“It sure feels like it,” Donghyuck snaps, fist tightening around the bottle in his hand. He glares at Mark, the hurt too raw to hide, “You don’t get it, do you? Every time you walk away, every time you’re busy with the Powerpuffs, it feels like a punch to the face.”
Mark blinks, stunned, “What? Why?”
Look, he’s already glaring.
He doesn’t let anyone else in the same way.
Don’t break his heart.
But none of it makes sense.
Mark bites on the inside of his cheek, “Hyuck, you have to start talking to me. What’s going on? We’re still friends, aren’t -”
“Friends?” Donghyuck interrupts, a sour edge to the word. He lets out a sharp, humorless laugh, the sound almost drowning in the night. “You think that’s what I’m mad about?”
Mark stuns, “Yes?”
Donghyuck shakes his head, the movement jerky, frustrated. He tilts the bottle in his hand as if he’s considering another sip, but instead, he grips it tighter. “God, you’re so clueless sometimes,” he mutters. His eyes dart away, almost as if he’s looking for an escape
“What does that even mean?” Mark presses.
Donghyuck laughs bitterly, the sound shaky with a mix of anger and mortification, “It means I like you, Mark.” He stumbles back against the railing for support, shoulders slumping, suddenly small, “More than - just a friend.”
Mark’s world tilts, the confession hitting him like a physical blow. His heart stutters in his chest, a blend of confusion and disbelief threatening to swallow him whole.
Donghyuck takes a shuddery breath, and his words come out in an eager jumble, tangled up before they can make sense: “And every time you act like you don’t care, like I’m just some other intern, it fucking - hurts. I’m not just bored, alright? Stop saying that already. I… I actually care about you. But it’s like you don’t even notice.”
Mark’s breaths are shallow, trying to piece together the fragments of the conversation that seem to have shattered everything in an instant.
He’d never expected this.
Not from Donghyuck.
“I -” Mark falters, caught somewhere between wanting to fix this and not knowing how. “Hyuck… you’re drunk. You’re just -”
“No,” Donghyuck cuts in, eyes glazed over, having trouble focusing on just Mark. He waves a hand wildly, “I’m not. Even if I am, I know I’m - tired of pretending like it doesn’t matter. Like I don’t matter.” He softens, almost too quiet when he says again, “You don’t get it. You never will.”
Donghyuck’s eyes are darker now, shadowed by something Mark can’t place. The hurt is still there, but it's almost like it’s become a part of him - something he’s too used to.
“Every time you walk away, it’s like you’re leaving me behind.”
Mark stands, letting Donghyuck’s words sink in, his mind racing. He doesn’t know what to say. Doesn’t know how to fix this. The realization settles uneasily in his chest, but all he can think about is how he never saw this coming.
He never thought there was anything more to their friendship.
Donghyuck trembles as he continues, “I’ve always been... like this. But you -” He cuts himself off, running a shaky hand through his hair, “You always make it seem like it’s nothing. Like I’m nothing.”
Mark finally finds his voice, “I never thought of it like that, Hyuck.”
It comes out wrong.
The silence that follows feels too long, and Mark wishes he could take it back, but it’s too late. Donghyuck looks like he’s been slapped, expression falling into a combination of hurt and resignation.
“I know,” Donghyuck sighs, barely audible. A tipsy smile tugs at the corners of his lips, unsteady and unapologetic, “I know you don’t feel the same way.”
Mark pinches the bridge of his nose, feels a headache coming along, “You can’t just say that to me and expect me to understand. I -” He stops, patience fraying at the edges, “I didn’t know. How could I? You’ve never said anything about -” the words don’t come.
Donghyuck swallows hard, shrinking into himself, “When would you have liked me to tell you? When you’re busy clocking in extra clinic hours or when you’re off chasing after Dr. Blossoms?” He shakes his head, “You’re always... there for everyone else. And I’m just... here.”
Mark stares.
Stares like he’s seeing Donghyuck for the first time.
A suffocating pressure fills his chest, and in this singular moment, he wonders if he’s really been taking Donghyuck for granted. He’s never thought about it beyond friendship, and now the idea that he might’ve been blind to something more stings in a way he isn’t prepared for.
“I don’t know what to say,” Mark admits softly, hoarse.
Donghyuck gives a mirthless laugh and it comes out loud and unexpected, “Yeah, I figured.”
For a second, Mark wonders if he’s about to walk away. But Donghyuck just sighs, staring back out into the night.
“You don’t have to say anything,” he continues. He blinks slowly at Mark, like the world needed a moment to catch up, “I just needed you to know. Maybe it’ll suffice - as an explanation for why I’ve been on your ass.”
Mark doesn’t understand what to do with that, doesn’t know how to fix something that feels like it’s been building for so long. He opens his mouth to speak but is cut off when Donghyuck suddenly laughs again, almost self-deprecating.
“You know, I thought… I thought maybe if I just ignored it, if I just kept pretending that it didn’t bother me, it would go away.” Donghyuck closes his eyes, “But it’s not going away, Mark. I don’t think it’s ever going away. It’s not just some stupid crush anymore.”
Mark frowns, closing the distance until there’s only a small space between them. He’s still processing everything, trying to sort through the mess of his emotions, but he can’t shake the sudden heaviness in his chest.
He’s not sure where this is going, or if it’s even fixable - but he knows one thing.
“I really didn’t know, Donghyuck-ah,” he says gently. “I’m sorry.”
Donghyuck doesn’t reply, eyes searching Mark’s face, looking for something - anything. The tension between them lingers, thick and palpable, until Donghyuck is takes a step back.
“I’ll be fine.” He offers Mark a smile that doesn’t even look remotely close to one, “Do me a favor. Go back to the party and forget this ever happened. Just stop… stop looking at me like that.”
Mark stands there for a moment, watches Donghyuck’s retreating figure. He feels something in his chest tighten, something gnawing at him that he doesn’t understand. He stays frozen, hand still halfway outstretched, as if waiting for something to change - waiting for Donghyuck to turn back.
He doesn’t.
Mark doesn’t know what’s holding him here, but the idea of just walking away - leaving Donghyuck alone like this - doesn’t sit right with him.
He’s known the boy for months - but it feels like they’ve been best friends for forever, tethered by some invisible string. Maybe he’s been blind, maybe he’s been a little oblivious, but in this moment, Mark realizes how much Donghyuck means to him.
“Hyuck,” he calls out softly, resolve hardening.
Mark closes the distance between them, ignoring the fact that he doesn’t know what’ll happen next. All he knows is that he can’t let this moment slip by.
When Donghyuck doesn’t respond, Mark places a hand on his shoulder, turning him around.
Donghyuck stumbles slightly under his touch, eyes unfocused, too tipsy to stand straight. His cheeks are flushed, lips pressed tight as if he’s trying to hold himself together.
Mark can’t help the way his heart aches, seeing Donghyuck like this - vulnerable, open, and - so much more fragile than he usually lets on.
“Come on,” Mark says quietly. "Let’s get you home. You’re too drunk to make it back alone."
Donghyuck’s eyes flicker up to his, and for a moment, Mark thinks he’s going to protest. But instead, Donghyuck only nods, the fight gone from his body, now pliant and tired - as if he’s completely let go.
In two seconds it becomes obvious, the insurmountable amount of effort it’s taking for Donghyuck to stay upright. With a small sigh, Mark wraps an arm around Donghyuck’s waist.
“Thanks, Mark,” Donghyuck mumbles, barely above a whisper. But Mark can hear the weight behind it. The softness in the way Donghyuck says his name.
After saying goodbye to Jaemin and giving him a brief rundown of what happened (confession omitted), Mark guides Donghyuck slowly down the stairs, arm still around the younger’s waist to keep him steady.
Donghyuck very nearly stumbles the entire way down, head drooping slightly as he leans into Mark’s side.
He’s quiet now, the earlier tension replaced by a sort of weariness that Mark can’t ignore. He glances over, and the sight of Donghyuck leaning on him like this hits him hard.
What am I doing?
“Come on,” Mark murmurs as they reach the sidewalk, adjusting his grip when Donghyuck sways slightly. “You’re really out of it. Can you even stand?”
Donghyuck attempts to push himself upright, but he stumbles, hand finding Mark’s arm for support. “I’m fine,” he slurs, and it’s far less convincing than he clearly hopes.
Mark looks at him for a second, insides withering. He could let Donghyuck walk on his own - he’s not completely out of it, but Mark doesn’t want to risk him falling or worse.
Between you and me, he doesn’t know what could be worse.
“Alright, you’re not fine,” Mark says, offering a small smile despite the way Donghyuck’s scowling at him. “You’re too drunk for this.”
Donghyuck gives him a half-hearted glare but doesn’t push it. Mark knows him well enough to know when he’s too far gone to argue.
He drops to one knee, “Get on,” he says before he can even think.
Donghyuck blinks at him, confused for a second. “What? No, I’m -” he tries to argue, but Mark’s already grabbing onto Donghyuck’s arms, pulling them over his shoulders.
“Just trust me, Hyuck. You’re not going to make it home like this.”
Donghyuck narrows his eyes but goes as he’s yanked, slumping against Mark’s back. Mark feels his breath hitch for a second, but he quickly corrects himself, shaking off the thought.
This isn’t about anything more than just getting Donghyuck home safely.
That’s all it is.
“Fine,” Donghyuck mutters. He changes his mind and steps off to the side, and Mark can see the tiredness settling in his eyes. “But are you sure you can -”
“Yes, I’m sure.”
“You’re really going to carry me?”
“You’re too drunk to walk,” Mark says. “And don’t even think about arguing. Come on.”
Donghyuck climbs onto his back with a muttered, “You’re an idiot,” but his arms wrap snugly around Mark’s neck.
“You’ve made it abundantly clear that you think so.” Mark adjusts his grip under Donghyuck’s knees, ignoring the way his chest tightens when Donghyuck’s chin presses against his shoulder. “Let’s go.”
With Donghyuck on, Mark steadies himself, making sure his grip is solid before starting their way three blocks down to Donghyuck and Renjun’s apartment building.
“You’re heavier than you look,” Mark mutters, shifting Donghyuck’s legs for a better hold.
“Liar,” Donghyuck mumbles, his breath warm and sticky fanning across Mark’s cheek. “You’re just weak. Bet Jeno could carry me without whining.”
Mark huffs, shaking his head, “Yeah, because Jeno’s smart enough to let you rot on the sidewalk. I, on the other hand, think I’m pretty nice.”
“You’re not just pretty nice,” Donghyuck says, bite dulled by alcohol. “You’re... perfect.”
The word catches Mark off guard, and he stumbles slightly before regaining his balance. He tries to laugh it off, “Perfect? Since when does dragging your drunk butt home make me perfect?”
Donghyuck doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he presses his cheek against Mark’s shoulder, his voice dipping into something raw, “Since always.”
“That’s how you’ve always been,” Donghyuck prattles on. His heart beats a pattern into Mark’s back, “Always patient, always understanding, always nice. Even now. Even after everything I just threw at you.”
Mark frowns, “Hyuck -”
“You’re still here,” Donghyuck ignores him. “Still Mark. You’re so nice it makes me sick sometimes.” His fingers curl into Mark’s jacket, “Always helping, listening, smiling… like you mean it.”
“Okay, now I know you’re drunk,” Mark deadpans. “Since when is being nice a bad thing?”
“It’s not,” Donghyuck mutters. ““It’s just... you’re nice to everyone, hyung. And I hate it. I can’t ever tell when it’s different with me. If it even is different.”
Mark’s heart starts to crack at the edges.
“I hate it because you’re so -” He groans, the words caught in his throat. “You’re so... far beyond my reach.”
Mark stiffens, “What does that even mean?”
“It means you’re too good,” Donghyuck murmurs, dropping into something quieter. “Too good for me, for anyone. And I hate it. I hate you, sometimes, because I want you so bad, but I know I can’t ever have you.”
Mark’s breath catches, but he keeps walking, grip tightening on Donghyuck’s legs, “Hyuck, you’ve had too much to drink. Let’s just -”
“I’m drunk, not stupid,” Donghyuck cuts him off, sharp despite the slur. “I really like you, okay? I’ve liked you for so long it hurts. And you -” His voice breaks, the next words tumbling out like a confession he’s held back for years, “You’re so nice, and perfect, and you. And I hate that I want you, because I know you don’t feel the same way.”
Mark swallows hard, heart pounding in his chest. He adjusts Donghyuck on his back, mind racing as he tries to process everything, “You’re... you’re out of it. You’re not thinking straight.”
Donghyuck lets out a bitter laugh, breath warm against Mark’s neck, “Maybe. But that doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”
Mark hesitates, “Why didn’t you say anything before?”
“Because you don’t see me the way I see you,” Donghyuck sighs. “You see me like... a friend. A nuisance. Someone to babysit.”
“That’s not true,” Mark says quickly. “You’re my best friend. You’re important to me.”
Donghyuck huffs out a bitter laugh. “Yeah. Your best friend. That’s all I’ll ever be to you, right? Just your dumb, annoying best friend.”
Mark stops in his tracks, the weight of Donghyuck’s words settling heavily on his shoulders, “You’re not just anything, okay? I don’t think of you like that.”
Donghyuck lifts his head slightly, his face too close to Mark’s cheek, “Then what do you think of me?”
Mark falters, unable to find the right answer, “I... I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it.”
Donghyuck lets out a frustrated groan, slumping back down, nearly sending both of them to sidewalk, “Of course you haven’t. You’re too busy being you - everyone’s favorite golden boy. Why would you ever look at someone like me?”
“That’s not fair,” Mark says, sharp.
Donghyuck falls quiet for a moment, his breathing steady but heavy. Then, in a tiny voice so soft Mark almost doesn’t hear it, he says, “Do you even feel anything for me?”
Mark freezes, his grip tightening on Donghyuck’s legs. He doesn’t know how to answer. He doesn’t even know.
“It’s okay, hyung,” Donghyuck mutters, fading into a drunken monologue. “You’re just too... you. And I’m too me. That’s the problem, isn’t it?”
Mark hitches Donghyuck a little higher, his heart in a mess as he continues their way to Donghyuck’s apartment building.
The words I like you echo in his head, tangled with Donghyuck’s drunken confession of hate. But even now, as Donghyuck grows quiet against his back, Mark can’t help but think of how easily he gave in to carrying him home.
Of how, no matter what, he always will.