Work Text:
There’s something weird, Donghyuck decides, about the food in New York.
He can’t figure out what it is, exactly, but something’s just a little...off. Different spices, or the oil maybe, but his stomach’s starting to feel a little queasy, and it’s enough to make him uncomfortable.
Breakfast earlier had been the worst, Donghyuck thinks. He’d gone to use the bathroom, and on his way back, had heard Mark on his phone. He wouldn’t have thought twice about it, until —
“Okay, but he can’t know,” Mark had said, then, more hushed, “I’ll just say I have a meeting. Don’t — yeah, nine. Can’t wait either. Bye.”
“Work?” Donghyuck had said, after he’d settled back into the booth, and Mark’s face had done something weird, before he’d relaxed and smiled.
“Yeah,” he’d said, almost dismissively. “You know how it is. How are the waffles?”
It’s strange, seeing Mark in person for the first time in months. He reaches a hand out to touch his arm, and Mark jumps, clicking his phone off and looking back at him with wide eyes.
Stranger still is not being able to read the expression on his boyfriend’s face, and Donghyuck frowns as his stomach twists.
“Are you not happy I’m here?” He asks softly.
Mark blanches at the question.
“Of course I am,” he says, forehead wrinkled in worry. He leans over to the nightstand, setting his phone down, before cuddling into Donghyuck and kissing his forehead. “You know I love you, right?”
“Yeah,” Donghyuck says, smiling weakly. “Right. I love you too.”
It had started, like most of Donghyuck’s bad ideas do, with Renjun.
“Let me in,” Donghyuck moans. He lets out a couple of good cries, for good measure, before resuming his banging at the door. “I know you’re all home!”
He only has to wait around half a minute before the door swings open.
“God,” Jaemin says, unimpressed. He looks him up and down reluctantly, lips curling with dissatisfaction. “Do you ever shut up?”
“Jaemin,” Donghyuck says mournfully, gripping his shirt and stumbling inside. “I’m in pain. I’m in misery. This is the face of true suffering. A tragedy has befallen your friend — one of your greatest friends —”
“Don’t call yourself that,” Jaemin says lightly, shoving him towards the couch. “What do you want?”
Donghyuck takes a deep breath, channeling all four years of his arts degree, and lets out an ear-piercing wail.
“Good God,” Renjun yells, voice travelling down the hall and into the living room. “Shut the fuck up, Donghyuck!”
“Not until you come out here!” He yells back, collapsing dramatically on the couch. “I’m upset!”
Jaemin rolls his eyes, turning the TV on and settling onto the other couch.
There’s a long, drawn-out groan — a pause — and then Renjun comes stomping out of his room with Jeno’s shirt on, hair messy and stance threatening.
“What do you want,” he grits out, hopping onto the couch with Jaemin and tucking his legs underneath him. “If you’re here to complain about Mark’s wifi one more time, Donghyuck, I swear I’ll kick you out.”
“I mean, the wifi is terrible,” Donghyuck says, and Renjun narrows his eyes in warning. He waves his hands disinterestedly. “But that’s not the point.”
“It better not be,” Jaemin grumbles. “I didn’t lose at rock, paper, scissors just to let you in for his shitty wifi issues.”
“Yeah, well, get used to it,” Donghyuck grumbles, planting his face into a pillow. “Because he’s not coming home until late February.”
“Are you serious?”
Donghyuck looks up. “Wow, Jeno, thanks for joining the party. You got me! I obviously came all this way to your apartment for no reason whatsoever. Just wanted to butt in on whatever...”
He looks at them, wrinkling his nose. “Whatever you were doing.”
“Okay, but late February?” Jaemin lets out a low whistle. “Damn. Two more weeks, huh?”
Renjun softens, taking the remote and dialing the volume down. “That’s...okay, that actually sucks,” he says, uncurling himself from Jaemin’s side and reaching an arm out. “Come here.”
Donghyuck grunts, shuffling over so Renjun can pat his head reassuringly.
“Did he say why?”
“Yeah, that’s when their quarter ends,” Donghyuck huffs. “Like, I get it. Everybody’s busy before they have to publish their numbers. It’s been a couple months, what’s another two weeks?” His voice quiets. “I don’t know. I just thought he’d be here for Valentine’s, you know? I know it’s stupid, but I’m still disappointed or whatever. Not at him, because I know he’s really upset too. Just — everything.”
“It’s not stupid,” Jaemin says firmly. “The whole situation sucks, and it’s normal to be disappointed.”
“I’d be wallowing if I had to spend Valentine’s alone for the first time in five years too,” Renjun mutters. “Can’t believe you have to wait two more weeks.”
Silently, Jeno gives him a side-hug, and Donghyuck cracks a weak smile. “Thanks, guys.”
“I guess I’m just disappointed because I finished everything early, too,” he says, worrying at his lips. “Like, I pulled a ton of all-nighters and cleared my schedule for the next two weeks and everything, you know? And now...”
“Yeah, it’s not like you could just fly to New York,” Renjun mumbles.
Jaemin hums.
“...no, okay. Wait.”
“What now,” Donghyuck says suspiciously, eyeing the way Renjun straightens.
“Hear me out,” he says. “You cleared your schedule, right? So you could just fly to New York. Like, what’s stopping you?”
“I — could?”
“You said it yourself,” Renjun says, eyes gleaming. “Mark misses you too. And didn’t you say he was like, weirdly out of it the last few times you guys called? Just pack all your things and surprise him.”
“My English isn't even that good,” Donghyuck complains, but his mind is already whirling. Fly to New York? It...it’s possible, he realizes, with a shiver of excitement. To see Mark again...
“You’ll have your boyfriend, idiot,” Renjun says, rolling his eyes. “You definitely know enough to fly. Just have him translate everything you don’t know when you get there.”
“It’s not a bad idea,” Jeno adds helpfully, squeezing Donghyuck’s arm.
“Huh,” Donghyuck had said, already thinking of how much a round-trip ticket would cost.
And that had been that.
Now, Donghyuck bites his lip, wide awake as he stares at Mark. It’s something like four in the morning, and Mark’s mouth is slightly open, one leg kicked over Donghyuck as he sleeps.
“I love you,” Mark mumbles, shifting like he can feel Donghyuck’s eyes on him, and Donghyuck laughs incredulously. When did he start talking in his sleep again?
“Love who?” He whispers, settling into the pillow.
“You, obviously,” Mark sighs. He grows quieter, after, and Donghyuck sighs.
Are you talking about me, he wonders, or…
He forces the thought down as soon as it rises. The shadows of it linger in the recesses of his mind, though, and whenever he closes his eyes, they creep up, a yawning chasm of doubt growing in his chest.
He doesn’t sleep much after that.
The next morning, Mark’s phone buzzes when he’s in the shower. Curiosity flares up in him, and he half-wants to just say fuck it — grab Mark’s phone and check his messages.
Donghyuck squeezes his eyes shut and ignores it.
“Hey,” he says later, sitting up in bed and letting the sheets pool around his hips. “Your phone was buzzing earlier.”
“Oh, thanks,” Mark says, eyes sliding away from Donghyuck and to his phone. “Uh — do you know who it was?”
“No,” Donghyuck replies softly, folding his arms in front of himself. “I didn’t check.”
“Great,” Mark says, relief obvious in his voice. “I, uh — have a meeting in half an hour.” He grabs his phone. “But I’ll see you for dinner?”
He doesn’t look at him once, and Donghyuck feels his stomach sink.
“Yeah,” he says, and Mark shoots him a quick smile before he’s gone.
I’ll just say I have a meeting at nine.
Donghyuck checks the time.
8:30.
Fuck, he thinks, and has to suppress the sudden urge to cry.
“You look terrible.”
Even when pixelated to all hell and back, Renjun is as blunt as ever. The hotel’s shitty wifi does nothing to hide his disapproval, either — Donghyuck might not be able to see his frown, but he can definitely hear it in his voice.
“I do not,” he retorts immediately, rising to the occasion. “You should be grateful you even get to look at me. This” — he breaks off, waving at himself — “is priceless.”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Renjun mutters, and Donghyuck scoffs.
“Excuse me? Excuse you? I look fantastic. My body is a temple.”
Renjun rolls his eyes, and it’s honestly a testament to their friendship that Donghyuck can even tell, laggy connection and all. He pinches his nose. “This isn’t why I called. God, can you not argue with me for one minute?”
Donghyuck sniffs. “No.”
Renjun ignores him. “Don’t think I’m dropping the topic because you’re being annoying. What happened?”
Donghyuck shuffles uncomfortably. “Nothing happened.”
Renjun stares back, unimpressed.
“No, like, nothing happened,” Donghyuck stresses, fidgeting with the edge of his sweater. “We’ve just been...sleeping together. Like, honest to god, sleeping in the same bed.”
“Well, maybe he thinks you’re jetlagged.”
“Which I am when I nap in the afternoon,” Donghyuck says, pressing his lips together, “but not at night? And he always takes off so fast in the mornings, too, because he says he has work.”
“So…” Renjun trails off.
“So nothing’s happened,” Donghyuck cries, frustrated. “And now he’s at work, and I won’t see him for another eight hours, minimum. I mean, we haven’t seen each other in almost a month. I am ready to jump this man, and all he wants to do with me is...cuddle? I love him, I really do, but seriously?”
Renjun snorts. “Okay, but their quarter’s ending soon, right? Maybe he’s just really busy with work.”
Donghyuck bites lip. “Right,” he says slowly. “Which would make sense, except his manager called him the other day and told him to enjoy these few days.”
He pauses. “Because he has them off.”
The following silence is telling.
“Well, fuck,” Renjun says eventually, and Donghyuck groans, letting his head thud against the table in despair. “Yeah, that’s — okay. That’s pretty weird.”
“Let me get this straight,” he repeats, and Donghyuck makes an affirmative, half-formed hum in response. “Mark told you he was going to work, but we know he doesn’t have work this week, because you overheard his call with his manager…?”
“Yes,” Donghyuck says. “The day I got here. I think he thought I was asleep or whatever, but it’s not like I was creeping on him or anything. He literally took the call right next to the bed. I even texted his manager yesterday to confirm — just like, thanks for giving Mark these few days off — and he thumbs-upped my message.”
“Typical Jaehyun,” Renjun snorts.
“I know, right?” Donghyuck says, pouting, and when Renjun shivers — “don’t pull that cute shit on me, Hyuck, save it for your boyfriend” — he laughs and, inexplicably, feels a little better.
“So we’ve established that Mark is lying to you,” Renjun says, after they finish bickering, and Donghyuck’s smile slides off his face. “But why?”
“I don’t know,” Donghyuck mutters. “But he’s hiding something from me, and I’m gonna figure out what it is.”
“Maybe try asking him about it first?” Renjun offers. “At dinner tonight or something.”
Donghyuck’s mouth curls in dissatisfaction. “Yeah,” he says. “That would be the responsible adult thing to do, huh?”
Renjun rolls his eyes. “You literally hate miscommunication.”
“Can’t I just ignore him for a few days and sulk,” Donghyuck whines, covering his face with his hands. “Fuck being mature. Why can’t he just read my mind?”
“I’m not even going to dignify that with an answer,” Renjun says, rolling his eyes. Again. “Seriously. Just talk it out. Everyone knows Mark’s an open book, anyway. All you have to do is blink those annoying eyelashes of yours, and he’ll probably be tripping over himself to explain.”
Donghyuck muffles an overly dramatic, very self-indulgent scream.
“Fine,” he mumbles. “He better.”
“I’m sure he will,” Renjun says, half reassuring and half exasperated. “Look, it’s past midnight, so I’m gonna hang up, okay? Text me how it goes.”
He doesn’t tell Renjun about his doubts, he reasons, not only because the mere thought of it makes him sick, but also because Renjun would jump to conclusions — would probably hop on a plane himself and threaten Mark to reveal his secrets.
But what secrets could he have, Donghyuck thinks, bewildered. Mark is, like Renjun said, an open book. And despite the obvious conclusion, Mark...wouldn’t. He just wouldn’t.
He thinks about it — replays every conversation they’d had over the last few months until he wears the memories out with how finely he dissects them. Every offhand remark, every missed call.
It hadn’t even started until around a month ago, he thinks, and the harder he thinks, the worse his mood gets.
He’s hungry, dissatisfied, and lonely. And he can only change one of those things, he thinks to himself, digging the hotel service guide out of the drawers. He stares mournfully at the index, realizing that he can only understand about half of the words on the page, and flips until he sees pictures of food, along with —
His breath catches. There, in Mark’s chicken-shit handwriting, is a translation of every food item, scrawled neatly in yellow post-it notes. There’s a blue one at the top, too, that reads:
I knew you’d order room service!! Hahaha. Anyway, I put my card information down already, so you can just order to the room. I even left some bills in the drawer, so don’t forget to tip.
Unbidden, Donghyuck’s heart warms, and he blinks rapidly as the words register.
Silly, he thinks, and staunchly ignores the way the post-it notes make him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Of course he wouldn’t forget to tip.
He decides, after he finishes breakfast, that dinner is simply too far away. Fuck jetlag. Mark is having lunch with him, like it or not.
Donghyuck manages to make it to the building Mark works in, cobbling together every single English phrase he knows to call a taxi and ask for directions. When he enters the lobby, he finds a seating area to lounge in, pulling his phone out and texting Mark — I’m here.
Simple. Ominous. Just how Donghyuck likes it.
He ignores the subsequent dinging of his phone, stretching his legs out and resting against the very comfortable sofa. He closes his eyes for what feels like a second, and the next thing he knows, there’s a hand on his shoulder nudging him awake.
He hums, eyes fluttering open to see...a complete stranger towering over him.
Donghyuck squeaks, shifting backwards on the couch, and the stranger laughs, loud and boisterous, taking his hand off of his shoulder.
He says something — Donghyuck only registers the word sorry. His smile is nice, Donghyuck decides, even if he has no idea what else he’s saying.
The stranger rocks back on his heels, looking at him, and Donghyuck realizes with a slow flush to his cheeks that he’s waiting for a response.
“Uh,” he says, squinting his eyes to focus. “I can’t speak English.”
“Sorry,” he adds on at the end, smiling apologetically.
“Oh,” the stranger blinks, before launching into Korean. “I said, sorry for waking you up. Were you waiting for someone?”
“I’m Johnny, by the way,” he says, holding his hand out when Donghyuck gapes at him, mouth open.
“You speak Korean?”
Johnny laughs. “Does it sound like I speak Korean?”
“Right,” Donghyuck stutters, taking his hand and shaking it weakly. “Hi, I guess. I’m Donghyuck. And — um, yeah. I guess I am waiting for someone.”
“Wanna tell me who?” Johnny settles onto the couch, too, careful not to lean in too close, and Donghyuck breathes a sigh of relief at the thoughtfulness. “I can go up there and get them for you, if you want.”
“Thanks,” Donghyuck says, smiling embarrassedly. “I think he’s on his way, though.”
“Alright,” Johnny says, agreeing easily. His cheerfulness is infectious, and conversation flows easily — how long he’s been in New York, and how are you liking it so far? Johnny offers to show him around sometime, and — to both Johnny’s and his surprise — Donghyuck finds himself agreeing.
Johnny is telling him about the Statue of Liberty when Mark appears in the lobby, shoulders falling in relief when he sees Donghyuck. He all but jogs over, eyes softening when he takes him in — jeans ripped to all hell, sweater soft and Mark’s — and he smooths a hand over Donghyuck’s shoulder, settling next to him. They’re close enough to each other that their legs press together, from their knees to their hips, and Donghyuck feels something in him settle a bit at how easily Mark places a hand on one of his thighs as he releases a long breath of air.
“What are you doing here?” Already, the incredulity is fading, replaced by the exasperatedly fond look that Mark always gives him when he does something he doesn’t expect. He looks back up to Johnny. “Oh, hey dude. You guys have met?”
“Sure have,” Johnny says, raising an eyebrow at their seating arrangement. “And this is…”
Mark’s mouth opens slightly. “Right,” he says, taking Donghyuck’s hand and lacing their fingers together subtly. “Sorry. Introductions. Donghyuck, this is Johnny, my coworker. Johnny, this is Donghyuck, my boyfriend.”
Johnny’s nods understandingly. “So this is the boyfriend,” he says. He winks. “Makes sense. I’ve heard so much about you from Mark. It’s nice to finally meet you, Donghyuck.”
Mark talks about me, Donghyuck thinks, then — is he the one?
He gives him a carefully neutral smile. “Good things only, I hope.”
Mark shoots him a look at his tone. “Don’t,” he warns Johnny, who just pats Mark on the back.
“I won’t embarrass you today,” he says, grinning. “But come back some other day, Donghyuck. I can let you know just how much Mark has said about you.”
Donghyuck’s eyes widen slightly, and Mark groans, fingers tightening around his. “Please don’t,” he mumbles, and Donghyuck notes, with surprise, the way the slightest blush appears on his cheeks. “That would be so embarrassing.”
“Oh, now I have to know,” Donghyuck says, lips curling upwards dangerously, and Mark coughs, very unsubtly.
“Okay,” he says, cutting him off and laughing nervously. “Johnny, don’t you have somewhere to be?”
“Sure, sure,” Johnny says, hands up in a sign of surrender. He stands. “Another day then, Donghyuck. I’ll see you around.”
“Oh, for sure,” Donghyuck says, mirroring his smile. “I’ll get Mark to give me your number.”
Johnny waves to them before heading off in the direction of the elevators, and Donghyuck turns to Mark, raising his eyebrows. “I didn’t know you talked about me.”
Mark’s smiles, sheepish. “I ...uh. Sometimes? Not enough for it to be weird. I think? That’s normal, right? My coworkers all think you’re cooler than me, anyway.”
“Cool,” Donghyuck snorts, head drooping on Mark’s shoulder. “Smooth as always, babe.”
“The coolest,” Mark says, unabashedly, and when Donghyuck just hums in reply, he strokes his hand with his thumb. “Are you tired?”
“No,” Donghyuck mumbles, and when Mark lets out a quiet exhale of laughter, he smiles too — his first real one — and closes his eyes. “I came here to have lunch with you.”
“Silly,” he hears Mark say, wrapping an arm around him and hugging him closer. “So that’s why you came all the way here?”
“...maybe?”
“Okay,” Mark says, running a hand through his hair gently. “Why don’t you go take a nap in my office, hm? I’ll go run a few errands, but I don’t have much else to do today, so we can go back together when I’m done and get dinner. How does that sound?”
Donghyuck makes a small noise, pushing his head further into Mark’s chest, and Mark sighs, slinging his arm around his shoulder. “Alright, that’s a yes,” he says. “Come on, up. You can sleep in my office.”
“Don’t wanna,” Donghyuck grumbles, but he staggers upwards obediently when Mark stands. “Your sweater’s really comfortable, by the way.”
“Yeah, don’t think I didn’t notice,” Mark huffs, hands around his waist. “Come on, Hyuck. My office is literally a five minute walk away.”
Donghyuck blinks up at him. “Can I have a kiss first?”
Mark’s lips quirk upwards. “I can’t believe I forgot how clingy you were.”
“And?”
“I’m not kissing you in the lobby,” Mark says, pinching his waist affectionately. “In my office, okay? Work with me, baby.”
Donghyuck lets out a long-suffering sigh. “Fine.”
“No,” Donghyuck says, later, before Mark leaves. Curled up on the small sofa in Mark’s office, he pouts expectantly. “Kiss.”
“So cute,” Mark teases him, leaning in to kiss him gently instead of replying. It’s sweet, close-mouthed in a way that’s all love and butterflies, and when he pulls back Donghyuck sighs happily.
“Okay, bye,” he says, feeling like he could melt into a puddle on the couch. A very comfortable puddle. A loved puddle.
“Mm, bye,” Mark says. “I should be back before you wake up, but if I’m not, call me, okay?”
Donghyuck hums, yawning after. From the door, Mark says something else — Donghyuck doesn’t really hear what it is, though, before he drifts off into sleep.
Donghyuck dreams about a road. It’s a long, winding road, with trees on both sides. Their branches sway gently in the breeze, pink blossoms trembling as the wind picks up slightly.
He’s alone on the road, and he walks forward curiously, passing by more trees and flowers that he doesn’t recognize. As he walks, the colors grow more vibrant, and the wind dies down slightly, one last breeze brushing against his skin before it mostly disappears.
He walks until he’s tired, and then he flops into the grass, staring up at the sky. The clouds drift around, forming vague shapes, and he covers one eye and traces his name out.
Lee — Dong —
“Hyuck?”
A shadow falls over him, and he turns to see Mark, squatting at the side of the road and looking at him curiously.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m tired, so I’m resting,” Donghyuck says, matter-of-fact, and Mark oh’s, folding his legs beneath him and sitting down. “Why are you here?”
“I followed you,” Mark says, shrugging. “Got distracted on the way, but — well. I guess I found you again.”
“You did,” Donghyuck hums. “Wanna cloud watch with me?”
Dream-Mark agrees readily, and then it’s the two of them, pointing out increasingly ridiculous cloud shapes.
“That’s half of an oven mitt,” Donghyuck says, and Mark swats at him.
“What good is half an oven mitt? It’s obviously half of an arrow.”
“Like half an arrow is more useful than an oven mitt,” Donghyuck snorts. “At least you can still use half an oven mitt with half your fingers. What are you gonna do with half an arrow? Go in the wrong direction?”
Mark turns to look at him. “They’re both kind of useless, though?”
“But if I had to have one,” Donghyuck pauses for dramatic effect, “I’d take the oven mitt.”
“Okay, you win,” Mark says, unfazed. “You can have the oven mitt. Half of it, anyway.”
“Thank you,” Donghyuck says graciously, and Mark giggles into his shoulder.
It’s not even that funny, Donghyuck thinks amusedly, but Mark keeps going — grips at his sweater and laughs until he hiccups, slapping his arm and hugging him closer.
“You’re so cute,” he complains, voice muffled a bit by the fabric. “Half an oven mitt, seriously.”
“You’re not even cloud watching,” Donghyuck pouts, acting cute, and his pulse jumps when Dream-Mark looks up at him, eyes sparkling. “You’re just disagreeing with the ones I point out.”
“Fine,” Mark says, laughter subsiding as he points up at the sky. “There. That’s you.”
Donghyuck squints. It’s one of the brightest patches, and he has to cover his eyes to see properly.
“There are no clouds there, though?”
“I was pointing at the sun,” Mark says, rolling his eyes. “That’s you.”
“Oh,” Donghyuck says, smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Why?”
He’s expecting something cliché — you light up my world, or something equally embarrassing — but Mark rolls over, throwing a leg over his and humming thoughtfully.
“Because,” he says slowly, “I want...to see you every day when I wake up for the rest of my life.”
“Just like this,” he adds, after hesitating for a second.
Donghyuck’s heart skips a beat. Dream-Mark is so nice. “Just like what?”
“I’ll show you,” Mark says, leaning in until he’s close enough that Donghyuck can feel his breaths fan out over his face. “Close your eyes.”
Donghyuck closes his eyes.
Mark’s hand touches his arm, shaking it gently. “Donghyuck? Wake up.”
No, wait, he wants to say. Not yet — just a little longer —
Donghyuck opens his eyes.
“Donghyuck?”
Mark’s face hovers above his, and Donghyuck blinks twice, rubbing at his eyes.
“You — wait,” he says, straightening his legs and sitting up. There’s a blanket covering him, and he stares at Mark, mouth dry and fuzzy.
He reaches his hand out carefully, to touch him. The dream lingers in his head, an abstract, golden glow in his memories, and Mark’s skin is warm underneath his fingers.
Every day for the rest of his life.
Yeah, he thinks, half a beat later. Definitely a sight he could get used to.
“Everything good?” Mark asks, annoyingly perfect even as his eyebrows furrow in concern. “You slept for a while.”
Donghyuck kisses him instead of answering, and Mark’s jaw goes slack, hands coming up to press Donghyuck’s shoulders down as he half-sits, half-leans on the couch to kiss him back. It’s soft and slow and just — perfect, Donghyuck thinks, sighing happily as he sinks further into the sofa.
They’re interrupted by a growl, and Mark pulls back first, raising an eyebrow at Donghyuck.
“Dinner,” he says decisively. “Come on, let’s go.”
So it ends up being at dinner after all, Donghyuck muses, swishing his noodles around in his bowl as he waits for Mark to answer.
It had been after they’d finished their entrees — which had been lovely, Donghyuck thinks. As expected from a restaurant without prices on their menu. Mark had slid his card across the table at the beginning, though, so he supposes that he won’t worry too much about how much it cost.
He’d been nice enough to bring it up at the end, he thinks, if only because it really was a nice restaurant, and he’d felt bad about ruining the mood of it at the beginning.
I know you don’t have work this week, he’d said.
Eight words, and Mark’s face had gone red — redder than he’d been earlier, in the lobby with Johnny.
So you found out, Mark had mumbled, looking very much like he’d gotten caught stealing from the cookie jar. Well, I thought it’d be romantic.
Donghyuck had paused, then, digesting this new piece of information. Very carefully, he’d asked — What would be romantic? — and Mark had stared at him, mouth opening and closing.
“Um,” he says, finally, shaking his head and laughing to himself. “It was actually supposed to be a surprise.”
“A surprise,” Donghyuck echoes. His head spins. So it’s a good thing?
“Like,” he scrambles, “for Valentine’s? You got me something?”
Mark scrunches his nose. “No? Well, yes, but — technically yes, I guess. I actually had this all planned out, you know, I was going to fly back in a week and it was going to be late, but it’d be okay because —”
He smiles to himself. “Well, it doesn’t really matter now. You came here and surprised me, and I realized that we were actually going to spend Valentine’s day together and panicked, because I wasn’t ready.”
“Oh,” Donghyuck says. He swallows. “That’s why you’ve been busy?”
Mark winces. “Yeah. There was some stuff I was gonna take care of in the next few days, but I squeezed it all into these last few days.”
“You can still do it later,” Donghyuck says softly. “If you want.”
“No, I — this is better.” Mark pauses. “You always do this, actually. I plan things, you know, so nothing can go wrong, but then you come in with your spontaneous ideas and make things better in ways I would’ve never imagined.”
His eyes soften. “Here you are,” he murmurs. “And I’m ready now.”
“Valentine’s is tomorrow,” Donghyuck points out weakly.
“Doesn’t matter,” Mark says. “I couldn’t wait. You make me impulsive, I guess.”
He reaches across the table and takes Donghyuck’s hand. “And you make me happy. You did back then, when we were just kids, and you still do now, even when you make fun of me, or you try to annoy me for no real reason. You’ve taught me a lot, Hyuck — how to laugh, how to love — and you force me out of my comfort zone in the best ways. Which is crazy, because you...you’re also my home.”
He smiles shakily. “Sorry my hand is sweaty, by the way. I don’t know why I’m so nervous.”
Donghyuck opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. You never give these kinds of speeches, he wants to say, but he doesn’t trust his voice not to break.
Eight years, and the last time he’d pulled out the grand speech was when...when he’d asked him out for the first time.
“You,” he says, voice unsteady. The corners of his eyes blur, and he has to blink rapidly, trying his hardest not to cry. “Are you —”
Mark takes a deep breath, squeezing his hand. “I’ve learned a lot over the last few months,” he says, “but most importantly, I’ve learned that I never want to be away from you again.”
“You know I’m not good at speeches, so please don’t laugh,” Mark says, voice dropping to a whisper as he stands up and walks over to kneel in front of him.
Donghyuck stops breathing.
“Life is a really long road,” Mark says, taking his hand again, and the look in his eyes makes Donghyuck shiver. “We might not have started in the same place, but I ran into you on the way, and I’ve never been more grateful for anything else in this world.”
“I don’t know where this road is going,” he whispers, “because the end is too far away to see. But I know, now, that I want to hold your hand and walk with you. And when you’re tired of walking — because I know you will be — I want to sit with you, in the shade.”
He presses his lips together valiantly, hand shaking as he takes out the small, black box burning a hole through his pocket. He opens it, clearing his throat.
“So, Lee Donghyuck,” Mark says. “Will you —”
“Yes,” Donghyuck says, nodding desperately. “Wait, finish your question. But the answer is yes, just so you know.” He laughs wetly. “Because I know you’re stressing out right now.”
Mark’s smile is wobbly, too. “I love you,” he says helplessly. “Will you marry me?”
“Yes,” Donghyuck whispers, sinking to his knees and cradling Mark’s face in his hands. “Yes. I love you too, I — I can’t believe all this time, you were going to propose.”
Mark wraps him in a crushing hug, and he cries, mumbling small yes’s into Mark’s shirt. He can feel Mark relax, too, tension seeping out of his shoulders as he scrambles into his lap so he can lean up and kiss him.
It’s messy and wet and salty with tears, the restaurant floor cold and probably dirty underneath his ripped jeans, but it’s the best kiss Donghyuck’s ever had in his life, because it’s the first one with his — fiancé.
Oh god, he thinks, overwhelmed. They’re going to get married.
“You,” Donghyuck murmurs against Mark’s mouth — thinks of all his secretive calls, and weird, evasive answers over the last few months. “You really had this planned for a while, didn’t you?”
“Yeah,” Mark sighs, and he pulls back slightly, brushing some of Donghyuck’s hair back behind his ears carefully. “I thought of it one day, and then I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Started looking at wedding rings, too, so I could get ones that matched, ‘cause I knew you’d want to wear both.”
“Damn right I do,” Donghyuck says, sniffles. “God, I sound like a wreck.”
He holds out his hand. “Can you put it on?”
“Oh, yeah,” Mark says, sliding the ring on. It fits perfectly, snug but not pinched around his finger, and Donghyuck can feel another wave of tears well up behind his eyes just by looking at it.
“I didn’t even know you knew my ring size,” he whispers. He tugs Mark up, so they can admire it in the candlelight of the table. “I love it. I love you.”
“I guessed,” Mark admits, biting his lip. “And then I measured yesterday, and I was right, so I picked it up this morning.”
Donghyuck blinks, feeling something warm unfurl in his chest. “When you said you had that meeting?”
“Yeah.”
The feeling spreads throughout his body, leaving him warm and tingly all over. “Can we go back now?” He whispers, leaning his head against Mark’s and tangling their fingers together. “I want — you know?”
“But we didn’t even have dessert,” Mark says, voice hitching when Donghyuck turns to him, raising his eyebrows.
“It’s been months,” he murmurs, hand sliding into Mark’s pocket. He tilts his head. “Are you really going to make me wait for some chocolate cake?”
“It’s really good cake,” Mark protests feebly, and Donghyuck hums, pressing a kiss to his neck.
“Okay,” he groans. “Never mind. Yeah, let’s — let’s leave.”
“Hey, are these walls soundproof?”
“Uh —”
“Whatever,” Donghyuck huffs, stretching his arms upwards. A sliver of skin peeks out, and he smiles wickedly when Mark’s eyes immediately narrow in on the edge of the fabric. “I guess we’ll just have to find out.”
“Oh, you'll find out, alright,” Mark says, backing him up to the bed, eyes dark and promising. “You think I don’t know what you were doing, wearing my clothes all day?”
Their knees bump together, and Donghyuck bites his lip to hide his smile, tugging at Mark’s tie.
“It worked, didn’t it?”
Donghyuck wakes up on Valentine’s day feeling on top of the world. Mostly. Some of his muscles are a bit sore, but, well. That's to be expected.
And the food in New York, he thinks, is amazing.