Chapter Text
Haechan had always been good at pretending.
It had been over a month since he and Mark had stopped their arrangement.
Over a month since Mark had sat him down — casually, like it was no big deal, cause it wasn't — and said they should probably stop before things got too complicated (as if they weren't already), before it jeopardized their friendship, before this year got too hectic, because it would get too hectic, so many things lined up throughout the year for them, with 127 and Dream (Mark's OFFICIAL return to Dream) and a full NCT project later on, and they would need each other more than ever.
It had made sense. Mark was reasonable and Haechan knew that, in a way, he was right.
So Haechan had nodded, smiled, agreed.
It was for the best considering Donghyuck knew that Mark would never love him the way he loved Mark, romantically speaking. That it hadn't meant the same thing to both of them. Not that Mark knew that anyways.
And also considering the fact that Donghyuck knew Mark was probably still dealing with his own sexuality...
It had been the right thing to do.
So why did it still feel like his chest was caving in whenever he was alone?
He wasn’t alone often, at least — not with NCT Dream’s comeback preparations in full force. Mark was back for real, Jisung has recovered from his back injury, Dream’s first full album was happening, they would be having a showcase even, even with some covid restrictions still in place, and the seven of them were spending almost every waking moment together.
It was exciting and good and almost enough to make him forget about his heartbreak.
Almost.
Which was probably why he found himself there, that night, a cold night in early March, in slippers, sweatpants that used to be Mark's and a thin hoodie that used to be Doyoung's, bored after a day of schedules, slipping into the 10th floor unit without announcing himself, fully intending to go bother Mark or just hang out with him, because despite everything, Mark was his best friend. Mark was still Mark. Mark was still—
Donghyuck's thoughts cut off at the sound of voices coming from the kitchen.
Mark’s voice and Jungwoo’s voice.
That wasn’t what made him freeze.
It was the words.
It was—
“I mean, Yuta-hyung and I have been doing this for a couple of weeks, hooking up,” Mark was saying, casual, like it was nothing. Donghyuck can almost see him shrugging. “It’s not serious or anything.”
Donghyuck felt the air leave his lungs, cause what?
Jungwoo hummed, sounding entirely unbothered and not surprised in the least. “Yeah, I figured. He’s always all over you.”
Mark let out a sheepish chuckle. “Yeah, he’s—Yuta-hyung is just, you know, Yuta-hyung.”
Jungwoo snorted. “And you’re just Mark, letting him do it?”
A pause. A quiet chuckle from Mark. “Shut up.”
He didn’t hear the rest of the conversation. He couldn’t.
His ears were ringing.
His chest felt tight.
It was—he hadn’t expected this.
Not at all.
Mark and Yuta?
His mind scrambled to piece it together, to make it make sense. Cause, sure, Yuta was clingy with Mark. Always had been. He touched Mark all the time, draped himself over him, flirted in that exaggerated, half-serious way.
But it had only been in good fun, hadn’t it? It was just... just antics, right?
Donghyuck had thought it was just fun. Had never thought Yuta-hyung was actually interest in Mark.
Oh.
Oh, God.
Donghyuck swallowed against the lump in his throat, made sure his hands weren’t shaking as he carefully, silently slipped back out the door.
Making his way through the building corridor, a fresh wave of hurt crashed over him as realization dawned, his mind running a mile a minute. Already overthinking everything.
That Mark hadn’t wanted to stop hooking up because of their friendship. Hadn’t wanted to stop because of the timing, because of Dream’s comeback, because of their busy schedules.
Mark had wanted to stop because—
Because he wanted to hook up with other people. Because he had been hooking up with Yuta.
He wasn’t crying.
Not yet.
But he barely registered the cold as he stepped into the stairwell, foregoing the elevator, his chest feeling like it was caving in, like his ribs were pressing too tight against his lungs.
God, Donghyuck had thought—he had thought that Mark hadn’t wanted to be with a man. Had thought that Mark had pushed him away because of that, because it had always been complicated for him, because his sexuality had been something he struggled with.
Donghyuck had told himself that was a big part of the reason why.
He convinced himself that was it: that Mark cared for him, that Mark wanted him, but just couldn’t—that it was bigger than them, that it was something they couldn’t change, no matter how much Donghyuck had wished otherwise. But apparently, that wasn’t it at all.
Apparently, Mark had wanted to be with another man.
Donghyuck reached the next landing, fingers curling against the railing as his stomach twisted. He couldn’t get Mark’s voice out of his head—so casual, so open with Jungwoo, as if it was nothing.
As if Mark hooking up with Yuta had never been something to hide. Like it was old news.
It was, considering, Jungwoo already knew.
Like it was something Mark wasn't really trying to to keep a secret there, the dorm. Unlike how Mark used to act when it was the two of them hooking up.
Jungwoo had already known. Jungwoo, probably the worst of them at keeping secrets and definitely not the top of Mark list of people to confide about. Which meant they all knew, in some capacity.
Taeyong. Doyoung. Johnny. Jaehyun.
All NCT 127 members.
And no one had told him.
Donghyuck let out a short, bitter breath, staring at the wall in front of him, his thoughts spiraling before he could stop them.
Had they been trying to protect him? Had they thought he couldn’t handle it? Had they—
Had they pity him?
The sting of betrayal curled tight in his ribs before the guilt could settle in, before his brain could remind him that no, no one owed him anything, that no, he had no right to feel this way, that no, this wasn’t their fault.
Mark had never been his to begin with.
Donghyuck inhaled sharply, closing his eyes, shaking his head.
He couldn’t go dowstairs.
Couldn’t go to his own dorm — couldn’t step into that living room where he knew Johnny and Taeyong and Doyoung and even Jaehyun tonight, were watching a movie marathon right now, where they would look at him and know there was something wrong. Where they would ask.
Where they would see the way his throat was closing up and the way his hands were shaking and deduce it has to do with Mark.
And Donghyuck — Donghyuck didn’t want them to know.
Didn’t want to be patronized, didn’t want to be comforted, didn’t want to talk about it. Didn't to see them now because despite knowing he shouldn't feel that way, he is hurt.
And he didn’t want to see them take Mark’s side.
Or Yuta’s.
God.
He swallowed hard, fingers twitching by his sides.
His options were limited.
He could go to Dream’s dorm, in the adjoining condo, but—
No.
Not now.
Not when they were all excited about the comeback, when they were happy that they were finally, finally seven again, as they have always should, when he was supposed to be happy too.
He would have to explain — actually explain — and that would be a mess, and it wouldn’t be fair to Mark and it wouldn't be fair to them to get caught up between him and Mark.
And well, that tiny, awful part of his brain whispered that they would take Mark’s side too.
Donghyuck exhaled shakily, chest still too tight, feet still moving without thinking, because it was late and cold and it's not like he can simply go out right now, so he took the last option left he had, thinking about the only person that he felt like he could talk to right now.
He wasn’t sure how he got there.
One second, he was on the stairs, through corridors and halls and the next, he was at the door of WayV’s dorm.
Donghyuck exhales, the cold air nipping at his cheeks, and stares at the number pad for a long moment.
Because the thing is, its not like he was closer to Ten than Mark was.
Mark was just as close, probably even closer, in some ways.
Mark and Ten had spent way more time promoting together than Donghyuck had a chance to do with Ten, because of SuperM. Even if they weren’t actively promoting with SuperM anymore.
They had shared stages, tours, hotel rooms.
But when they were younger —
When they were just a bunch of teens, some of them kids, still trainees, before NCT had even been properly presented to them—
Donghyuck had been closer to Ten than Mark was.
They had joined the company around the same time, sometime after Mark.
And Ten, four years older, and already wiser and more experienced, had basically taken Donghyuck under his wing.
Before he even had a stage name, before he was Haechan of NCT, when he was just trainee Lee Donghyuck.
Ten had called him Donghyuckie and Hyuckie and baby.
Because Ten had babied him.
Had took care of him and protected him.
Ten had in fact stood by him when he and Mark had butted heads, taking his side, giving him scraps of validation when Mark had frustrated him to no end by getting annoyed and screaming at him.
And Donghyuck had only really understood it with time, why Ten had always done that.
Why Ten had been the first one, and for some time the only, to see him properly. Had understood him when the others didn't fully.
Because Ten saw a bit of himself on Donghyuck , back then.
Had walked that line of realizing and accepting and surviving despite it all.
Ten had known stuff about Donghyuck before anyone else. Before Donghyuck had even properly known.
Had protected him, helped him navigate it, because he knew how hard it was.
How much harder it was in their world, in their industry, in their culture.
And even if, now, Haechan was closer to the other hyungs—closer to Johnny, to Jaehyun, to Doyoung, to Taeyong—
(Even if he had the dreamies too, of course)
Even if Ten had WayV now, had his own people that he was closer to
In this moment, with this feeling clawing at his chest, with this betrayal curdling in his gut—
There was no one else he trusted with this.
So he knocks.
A few moments pass, and Donghyuck is already mentally preparing for who it's going to be.
But it’s Kun who opens the door.
Thank God for Kun.
Donghyuck likes Hendery, Xiaojun, and Yangyang well enough, but he’s not close enough to them to show up like this— barely dressed for the weather, disheveled and out of breath, so obviously not okay.
And he’s glad it’s not Winwin, either. (He doesn't even remember Winwin had flown to China)
Not because he doesn’t love Winwin, not because he doesn’t trust him. But because Winwin knows him too well.
Winwin had once been in 127 too, had once been his hyung there too, a part of that dynamic, one of the closest people to him.
Winwin, quiet but sweet Winwin, would know, in an instant, that something was wrong. And he didn't want to have that conversation with him.
Because Winwin had been with Yuta, too.
And Donghyuck couldn’t—
It's been years but he couldn’t have that conversation right now.
So it’s good that it’s Kun.
Gentle, soft-spoken, non-invasive Kun, who’s known him since Donghyuck was 14, but wouldn’t pry if Donghyuck didn’t want him to.
Kun still looks concerned though. How could he not?
Haechan is standing here, unannounced, in slippers and sweatpants and a thin hoodie, in the middle of the night, visibly rattled, barely holding it together.
So Kun’s brows furrow, lips parting slightly—
Donghyuck prays his voice doesn’t break when he speaks. “I—” He forces a grin, hopes it doesn’t wobble, shoves his hands in his pockets like this is normal, like this is fine, like this isn’t the worst night of his life. “Hey, hyung. Ten-hyung’s home, right?”
Kun hesitates, looking like he wants to ask, looking like he wants to say something— But he just nods, stepping aside to let Donghyuck in.
And Donghyuck walks in, forces himself to act casual, forces himself to breathe, forces himself to keep pretending as Kun quietly tells him that Ten is in his room.
He walks straight to Ten’s door, his heart pounding, his throat closing up, and before he can overthink it—
He knocks.
Donghyuck hears the familiar voice call out — "Come in" — and pushes the door open, stepping inside and shutting it softly behind him.
Ten is at his desk, turning away from his computer screen, his brows drawing together the second he registers who it is.
“Haechanie?” he says immediately, already standing up. His voice is threaded with surprise, his sharp eyes scanning over Donghyuck's disheveled state, and Donghyuck can see the concern creeping in. Donghyuck swallows thickly, standing stiffly in place. His fingers twitch in the pocket of his hoodie. He takes a deep, shuddering breath, and tries to think of how to start.
What to say.
How to say it.
But when he opens his mouth, the words come out in a broken rush before he can even think about it.
“Mark and Yuta-hyung have been sleeping together.”
His voice cracks at the end and the tears he’s been holding back finally spill over.
He doesn’t even see Ten’s face shift in surprise, doesn’t see him close the distance between them. He just feels it. The warmth of Ten’s arms around him, the firm press of a hand on the back of his head, fingers threading through his hair.
And God, Donghyuck is taller than Ten now, has been for years, but he still—
He still folds into him like he used to. Tuck his face into Ten’s shoulder and lets himself curl into the space Ten makes for him, pressing his hands into the fabric of Ten’s sweater, his shoulders shaking as he tries and fails to keep it in.
Ten strokes his hair, voice quiet. “I’m sorry, baby.”
And Donghyuck lets out a sob.
They stay there for a long moment, the room thick with the sound of Donghyuck's shuddering breaths, the steady beat of Ten’s palm running down the back of his head, his neck, his back.
And when the weight on Donghyuck's chest starts to ease—when his breathing slows and his sobs taper off into quiet sniffles—Ten carefully pulls him to sit on the bed, the hand in his hair never leaving.
Donghyuck lets himself be led, sinking onto the mattress, feeling wrung out, feeling— like he’s grieving something.
Ten is quiet, patient, waiting for Donghyuck to settle.
Then, he calls his name.
"Donghyuck"
And Donghyuck lifts his head.
Ten studies his face, his eyes warm and knowing.
“Can you talk about it?” he asks gently. “Tell me what happened?”
Donghyuck hesitates, but then nods.
Because he does want to talk about it. Has to, before it festers and tears him apart.
He exhales shakily, and then, voice rough, heart aching—
He starts.