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Donghyuck doesn't smoke.
The smell lingers, leaves traces on his clothing and his hair, with an awful bitterness to it. Yet there he was, leaning against the balcony railing, pressing a cigarette to his lips.
He still hadn't unpacked. Boxes full of memories were stacked inside his dark, new apartment, waiting to be gone through again. Punches from the door’s keypad echoed through the empty living room to the balcony, and Donghyuck paid no mind as the door swung open and shut. His visitor walked up and rested against the balcony railing next to him. Donghyuck didn't need to look to know who it was.
“It's not good for you, y’know?”
It was painfully ironic coming from him. He seemed to know that as well.
Donghyuck dropped his cigarette and put it out on the new cement, snuffing it out with his shoe and pushing the ashes deep into the crevices of the pavement. He sighed. He didn't want to see the broken face staring at him. Donghyuck faced him anyway.
Mark.
Donghyuck exhaled and shook his head, “Yeah, Mark. I know.”
Mark turned and stared at the moon, his side profile softly illuminated by the pale light. The light painted his face. Each stroke that was Mark’s lips, each mark as his mole, they were all purposeful. Meaningful. Something to remember.
Mark didn't say anything else. Donghyuck leaned against the railing with his back against it, still looking at his friend.
His eyes were puffy. He had his hood pulled up and tucked his hands into his pockets balled in fists. His jaw was clenched, the tip of his nose red, his lips cracked. And he was still as beautiful as ever.
“Mark,” Donghyuck called. He didn't respond, and Donghyuck tried again. “Mark Lee. Malk. Hyung.”
Mark hummed and shut his eyes.
He didn't want to talk.
That was okay.
Donghyuck slowly came up behind Mark and snaked his arms around his waist, pulling his hyung close against his body. He tucked his head into the crook of Mark’s neck and held him tight. Donghyuck inhaled deeply, taking in as much of his scent as he could. It was familiar, something like a home for someone who never stayed put. He always smelt clean, fresh. Something Donghyuck wasn't.
He was going to miss it, his scent. The worst part was that Donghyuck couldn't even buy Mark’s cologne to smell once he was abroad–Mark didn't use any. It would be another thing new for Donghyuck, not smelling Mark on his clothes and his sheets after 14 long years. It would be new along with not being able to count each other's moles as they lie in the hotel bed, touching under the guise of ensuring the numbers stay the same, under the yellow light. Something new like no hand for Donghyuck to hold under the airplane armrest to ground himself when the turbulence got too rough.
“You smell,” Mark said.
“I know,” Donghyuck whispered against his skin, “I’m sorry.” He felt the corners of his eyes prickle and buried himself deeper into Mark’s neck, shutting his eyes until he saw stars just to stop himself. He needed to be strong.
Mark’s voice was weak. “Hyuck,” he called, pausing for a moment before continuing, “You should take a break too.” It was something he'd been repeating for months. He spoke more firmly now, “You need it. Because if not, at this rate you're gonna get burnt out, and you know it.”
Donghyuck almost laughed, “You know I can't do that Mark.”
Mark broke from Donghyuck’s arms and turned to face him, “Your voice-”
“Mark, I’m fine. I have been for a while. I get the next couple months off anyway. ” Mark scanned Donghyuck’s face, his own riddled with concern. “I’m good. Okay?” Donghyuck reassured
“I’m just worried-”
“I said it's okay, Mark-”
“No, listen to me, Hyuck,” Mark pleaded, and suddenly Donghyuck understood what he truly meant: longterm rest. “You do so much for both teams,” he pointed out, “The company, they're working you to the bone. I know you're exhausted. And I should be the one who understands that the most.”
“But the group needs me, Mark.” An ‘especially now’ was left unspoken. But the flash of hurt on Mark's face showed he picked up on the implication. “I can't just take a leave.”
Neither spoke for a while, Donghyuck’s words sinking heavy in the air like cinderblocks in water. Mark stepped forward. Donghyuck stepped back.
“What if you get worse?” Mark said, frustrated, “What happens if you lose your voice completely in the next five, ten years?”
“You don't know that, Mark.”
“Well, I do know you would get better if you rest-”
“Mark.”
He stopped talking and focused on Donghyuck. The flared up anger on his face that was so apparent quickly fizzled out. The creases on his face smoothed, his irritation melting into care. Mark's eyes were so round, so bright, and so full of affection. He cared too much. The thought felt like dragging a dagger down Donghyuck’s chest.
“I’m going to be okay, hyung. I promise to take as much care as I can.” Donghyuck led Mark back into his arms.
Mark didn't say anything. He just slotted himself back into the place that was rightfully his after years and years of comfort. Mark’s body shook gently. Crying, Donghyuck realized, Mark was crying. Mark held onto him tighter as he cried. “Hyung-”
“I’m sorry, Hyuck,” he said through clenched teeth, voice breaking, “I’m so sorry for leaving you, I’m sorry.”
Donghyuck cradled the back of his head, “Hey, shh,” he hushed, “It's okay, I’m still here.” He slowly rubbed circles on Mark’s back for comfort, giving him the time he needed to express the guilt Donghyuck knew ate him up from the inside.
It was the first time Mark had ever done something for himself.
It was only natural for him to have trouble accepting that.
He calmed down shortly after, but Donghyuck could tell it was forced. Even now, when Mark was free, he still couldn't let himself catch a break.
“There's nothing to be sorry for, Mark.”
Mark broke apart from the hug to look him in the eyes. “No, there is. I’m sorry for pushing you,” he apologized. His hands that were hooked around Donghyuck’s neck slowly traced down his arms until Mark interlocked their fingers. He shook his head with an ironic smile, “It's selfish. What I want, I mean.”
Be selfish, Donghyuck thought, You more than deserve it. But he kept quiet, because he knew his friend was stubborn. He’s convinced Mark could save the entire universe and he would still hate the thought of not trying to save more. His modesty was painfully endearing, yet so annoyingly irritating when Donghyuck saw how little he valued himself.
“What is it that you want?” he asked gently, “What could possibly be so bad?”
Mark’s own frustration was back, but it was more so aimed at himself. “You,” he whispered, his hands flexing then falling limp uselessly at his sides, “It's just…you.”
Donghyuck opened his mouth, but no words came out. It was like his throat was closing in on itself before he could say anything foolish.
Mark shuddered in pure, unadulterated emotion, “I need you, Hyuck.” His fist clenched until his knuckles turned white, and Donghyuck watched his Adam’s apple as he swallowed hard. “I want you to be with me. As I heal, as we finally rest– together. I can't even imagine living without you in arms reach. And that scares me so damn bad.” He let out a shaky breath, “I need you with me, Hyuck. That's why I keep pushing you for a break.”
He closed his eyes tight as if he was in pain, “Like I told you,” he said, “Selfish.”
Donghyuck just listened.
Mark continued.
“Deep inside, I know that won't happen,” he admitted, defeated, “At least not any time soon.” He looked at his best friend with glassy eyes. “But I can't help but hope, Donghyuck. That somehow, one day, we can live a normal life together.”
Donghyuck reached out and softly placed a hand on Mark’s forearm. “You are not selfish. You're anything but.” His grasp trailed down his forearm to his hand, taking it and leading them back to the balcony to face the countless bright lights. The flickering streetlights and windows were the only stars they could see in Seoul. But Donghyuck, still hand in hand with his hyung, wished upon them regardless.
“One day, we can do whatever we want,” he promised, “One day, we can rest together. I’ll make sure of it.”
Mark hummed, eyes still bright with the reflections of the city. He looked better now. Confident. Beautiful.
And suddenly Donghyuck felt very small. “Hyung…we will be okay, right?”
Mark only tightened his grip. “Yes,” he promised, “I’ll make sure of it.”