sweet dream

“Shit, I’m so sorry. Went too fast.” The boy in front of you is wide-eyed, hands fisting nervously in the material of his washed out jeans, the grey plaid flannel hanging loosely over his shoulders and white-shirt. “You good?”

He extends a hand out to you, and you take it without thinking as he pulls you up. It’s a while before you collect yourself, glancing at him and not quite sure what to say.

“Um,” he scratches the back of his neck, cringing slightly. “Really sorry about that. First day here and I’m already knocking people down. I guess Hyuck was right.”

You have no idea who Hyuck is, and why he’s predicting the future for the awkward, gangly-limbed boy in front of you, but the sight of his expression makes you soften a little. He’s genuinely apologetic about it, and you suppose that beyond your ass being sore for the next two days, there hasn’t been much harm done.

“It’s okay. You’re a freshman too?” You ask, trying to break the ice a little - he seems nice enough, the kind of person who you’d smile at on campus when passing by.

At your question, he laughs a little, eyes lighting up. “Yeah. I was trying to find the registration counter before I crashed right into you.”

“Well, if you help me find it, consider this accident gone from my memory. I’m a little lost too,” you offer, and he nods eagerly. “No problem. It’s down that way, I think.”

And when he turns, motioning for you to follow, you smile. Your first friend on campus. Sort of.

“Hey, I realised I still don’t know your name,” you say, and Mystery Boy seems to hesitate for a moment, before smiling at you.

“Mark Lee. Engineering faculty. You?”

“Y/N. Early education.”

“So you wanna be a teacher?” he asks, and you shrug. “Don’t know. I’m not sure how much I like working with kids yet.”

“That’s fair. Oh, we’re here.” He halts his steps, joining the queue with you.

It’s not long before the both of you reach the front, the students being registered in pairs.

The person handling the both of you is a young-looking guy, and his nametag reads Jung Jaehyun. When he smiles, his dimples are obvious, and you find yourself relaxing a little.

“Registration documents, please. We’ll get this done quickly,” he says, quickly scanning the papers that you and Mark hand over.

“You’ll be staying in the dorms for the first semester, and then afterwards, you can either do rental on your own, or off-campus housing. Any ideas yet?” Jaehyun asks, and you motion for Mark to go first.

“Um, rental on my own.”

You nod in agreement at that. “Yeah, me too.”

You’ve heard that the off-campus housing isn’t that great, and almost the same price as apartments in the city.

“Well, that works. Though, word of advice-” Jaehyun rests his hand on the table, meeting both of your eyes. “Get a roommate. Or two. Saves lots of money. Preferably one who doesn’t smoke copious amounts of weed, because it stinks up the entire house.”

He says it like he has personal experience, and you cough into your hand, nodding.

“Either of you got roommates yet?”

“No.” You and Mark say it in unison, looking at each other when you realise it and grinning slightly.

Jaehyun leans back, looking at the both of you with an unreadable look in his eyes. “Either of you stoners?”

You and Mark shake your head, and he whistles, impressed. “That’s rare. Well, just rent an apartment together, then.”

You glance at Mark, not quite sure what to say - you just met the man, after all.

“Um, we’ll think about it. Thanks for the suggestion,” he says, and Jaehyun nods. “No problem. here are your nametags, and you can head to the central square for the welcome activities.”

Your fingers close around the thin plastic folder, quickly thanking Jaehyun before you leave with Mark, the suggestion still lingering in your mind.

You do need a roommate. And Mark seems like a chill enough person, unless he’s secretly a serial killer.

“So…where are you planning to rent?”

“Probably somewhere near the city centre, but south. It’s nearer to the engineering faculty.”

When Mark says that, you feel a little bit more hopeful. “Me too. The education building’s just two subway stops down.”

“I wouldn’t mind, actually. You pay rent on time?”

“Yeah, I will. Dividing chores?”

“Of course. Also, just to make sure-” his mouth quirks up at the side. “You’re not a serial killer, right?”

“Fortunately not. I was thinking the same thing too.”

“Okay, great to know that we’re both not serial killers.” His comment lightens the mood a little, and you pause in your steps, outstretching your hand to Mark.

“Give me your phone. I’ll put my number in, and we can be friends first before deciding if we want to rent together next semester.”

He doesn’t protest, quickly slipping his phone out of his pocket and keying in his password.

And as you take it, you see his wallpaper - it’s a little white dog, staring up into the camera while someone’s sneakers are in frame - maybe his.

“Your wallpaper is cute. Is it your dog?” you ask, and Mark’s cheeks redden slightly as he shakes his head. “My friend’s. She’s called Daegal.”

“She’s really small. I wanted a dog when I was a kid,” you say off-handedly, quickly typing in your number and saving it with a ‘Y/N (potential future roomie)’ before giving his phone back to him. “Here.”

“You could get one next time.”

“Maybe. I can barely take care of myself now. I’m not sure if I can handle a dog.”

“I could ask my friend for advice, if you need it,” he says, smiling when he sees the contact name you saved. “Anyways, I’ll see you around, potential future roomie. We can get coffee next week or something.”

“Sounds good to me. By the way, Mark-”

He looks up at you, hands already tucked into his pockets.

“Who’s Hyuck?”

You only meet Hyuck, or otherwise known to everyone else as Lee Donghyuck, after you actually become roommates with Mark.

Somewhere along the way, the coffee outings had worked out, neither you or Mark finding each other’s presence unwanted, until it became natural to see Mark at least twice a week. Sometimes, it was midnight fries at McDonalds, and other times, it was lunches in the food hall, praying that the fresh pasta hadn’t yet run out.

And when the semester ended, you hadn’t hesitated to sign the lease that Mark handed you, for a perfectly-sized two-bedroom apartment overlooking one of the many crisscrossing side streets that made up the district.

It had the kitchenette you wanted, enough space in the living room for a four-person couch, and space for Mark to put his keyboard and guitar - which was the only thing he really wanted, honestly. The rest of the finishing touches had been suggested by you, like the IKEA oak coffee table and the extra cabinets for storage space.

The first month had been awkward and fraught with trivial disagreements, despite your relatively close friendship. Things like Mark not separating the blacks and whites during his laundry runs, or your terrible habit of leaving the bathroom light on at night. At some point, the both of you had even bickered over what plates to get, partially because you didn’t trust him with fragile items quite yet.

But his easygoing nature matched well with yours, and eventually the both of you settled into the rhythm of living together. He learnt that rule number one was to never go into your room without knocking or asking first, and you eventually stopped nagging at him to put a shirt on unless you were having friends over.

And sometime in August, you had come home, groceries in both of your hands, to find a complete stranger sitting on your couch, headphones placed squarely on his head.

You had screamed at him. and Donghyuck, naturally, had screamed back.

The both of you looked at each other, frozen, before Mark came rushing down the hallway, a confused expression on his face. “What- oh.”

“Mark, I thought you told her I was coming,” the man complains, his honey-brown hair falling over his eyes as he says it. Your gaze immediately shifts to your roommate, a very clear expression of what the hell? on your face.

“I think I forgot. Sorry. Um, Y/N, this is Hyuck.” Mark motions in the general periphery of the man on the couch, who smiles sweetly at you.

“Donghyuck to you. We’re not friends yet. Though we could be,” the boy adds thoughtfully, and you still haven’t quite recovered from the shock of the situation as you nod robotically. “Nice to meet you.”

Mark seems to notice the tension in the air, and immediately moves over to the kitchen counter. “I’ll help you unpack the groceries,” he offers, and you hand a few bags over to him.

Once Donghyuck’s out of earshot, however, you turn to Mark. “Is he staying for dinner? I don’t know if I bought enough ingredients.”

You and Mark had agreed to alternate cooking dinners each week, unless the other person had extenuating circumstances (like final exams). This week, it was your turn.

“It’s fine. If he doesn’t have enough, he can just make ramen,” Mark says, and you nod.

“Mark says you’re a really good cook.” The both of you jump at the sound of Donghyuck’s voice, not realising he came up behind at some point.

“That’s just because I can crack eggs, and Mark can’t.” You snort slightly at the expression on Mark’s face when you say that, his eyes widening in incredulity.

“You said I improved!”

“Having less eggshells to chew through in my omelette was an improvement,” you say, and his face falls comically. While he has made some improvements since learning to cook, you suppose eggs are the one thing that still intimidate him - Mark relies a lot more on oven-baked dinners and the air fryer to get the both of you through.

“You’re brave for eating what he makes,” Donghyuck comments.

“Very brave,” you say gravely, and he laughs. “I like her, Mark. She’s funny.”

“Thanks a lot, guys. Really feeling the love here,” your roommate grumbles, but Donghyuck ignores him, turning to you.

“Can we have kimchi-jjigae for dinner?” he asks, and you stiffen, because the ingredients you prepared are exactly for that dish. But you don’t quite want to give Donghyuck that satisfaction yet, only tilting your head up and narrowing your eyes at him.

“This isn’t a restaurant. You’ll eat what I give you.”

His eyes widen slightly, but it’s quickly replaced by mirth. “Noted, ma’am,” he retorts, and you decide that Donghyuck is the kind of person who’s annoying as all hell, but in the fun kind of way that makes you want to have him around and groan at his presence at the same time.

“Now, I need the both of you to move to the couch, because this kitchenette is way too small for three.” You make a shooing motion towards the two men, and thankfully, they listen obediently, Donghyuck returning back to his laptop.

After a while, you hear shuffling, and you turn to see Mark with his lips pursed, barely holding back a laugh. At the sight of his obvious amusement, you raise an eyebrow.

“Look at this video,” he says, turning the phone screen towards you, and you squint at the grainy resolution, before letting out a groan.

“Mark, this video is like, a decade old. No one watches Vines anymore,” you grumble, and your roommate stares at you incredulously. “But it’s still funny!”

“No, it’s not,” you say dryly, looking to Donghyuck for support, who’s watching the entire thing play out with amusement on his features. “Donghyuck, tell him the video isn’t funny.”

“That’s what I said. He sends me at least two a day,” the boy says from where he’s cross-legged on the couch, and Mark flashes you a look of utter, complete betrayal.

“Sorry, Mark,” you say lightly, patting him on the back in an act of comfort before he returns to the couch, dejected. It’s almost cute, and you hide your snort as you return back to your spot at the stove.

“What about this one?” You hear Mark ask Hyuck a few minutes later, who doesn’t hesitate to disagree and go on a tirade about how he doesn’t understand someone can be that unfunny and think it’s okay to put me through it by sending video after video.

The conversation only makes you smile as you settle into the familiar motion of prepping ingredients, something about it making you feel more at ease and more at home in the apartment that you’ve been in for only four months.

Corny sense of humor aside, you couldn’t ask for a better roommate. And you suppose Lee Donghyuck is okay too.

Eventually, the both of you do become friends, especially when Donghyuck realises the kimchi-jjigae you make is almost as good as his grandma’s, and while she’s a three-hour flight away, you and Mark live twenty minutes from his dorm.

Your freshman year passes that way, the beginning of so many things. Between the months spent studying and sitting at the counter eating ramen at midnight, Mark Lee becomes your best friend, until the both of you are almost inseparable.

And Donghyuck? Well, he comes and goes. Though you suppose you do have a modicum of affection for the overly dramatic theatre major.

There’s something thrilling about being in your final year, less than twelve months before you graduate.

You wonder if everything will be the same as it always is.

“Who the fuck is Draymond Green?”

“He’s a basketball player, you idiot.”

“You could have said Stephen Curry. I know who that is.”

“Is that the only one you know?”

“As a matter of fact, yes.” Donghyuck sets down his drink as he says it, eyes deliberately challenging Chenle to continue their pointless banter, one that the rest of you witness quietly, already used to the both of them.

“If the both of you are done, try finishing the food. We ordered too much,” Jisung says, and both Donghyuck and Chenle turn towards him in sync.

“Are you giving me instructions?” Donghyuck asks incredulously.

“I’m older than you, you know,” Chenle not-so-helpfully points out, and you look at the youngest boy sympathetically as his shoulders sink and his lips purse in an almost comical expression of frustration.

Except that it’s Jisung, and you’ve always had a soft spot for the introverted dance major, who’s like a little brother to you.

“Quit it, you two. He acts more mature than the both of you on most days.” At your words, Jisung smiles brightly at you, and you motion for him to eat a little more. “A dance major needs more food.”

“Theatre majors need food too!” Donghyuck whines dramatically, and you don’t hesitate to move the plate away from him, ignoring his protests that become even louder.

“You should eat too,” Mark encourages in a low murmur, picking up the tempura with his chopsticks and placing it on your plate. “You didn’t take much.”

You smile at him, shaking your head. “It’s okay. Yeji bought pizza for everyone today after our meeting, and Ms Lee let us finish the leftover muffins. I’m stuffed.”

“Still, you shouldn’t drink on an empty stomach,” he chides, moving the can of cider a little further from you, and you decide to relent to your best friend’s demand.

“Got it. You know, you should have just gone for a degree in Nutrition,” you tease, and the corner of Mark’s mouth quirks up as he meets your eyes. “I could. But Engineering’s…fun.”

“Don’t lie, Mark. I sat in on one of your lectures once.”

“That’s because it was the middle of the year! And data structures is one of the hardest topics in the syllabus.”

“Still, I think that was enough numbers to last me a lifetime.” You shiver at the memory of the screen, the different formulas displayed having been enough to give you a headache.

“I could teach you,” he offers, and you raise an eyebrow. “You think you’re better than Mr Kim?”

“Probably. Unless you see me as a balding sixty-five-year-old on the verge of sleep.”

“I mean, there is a slight resemblance- ow!”

Mark pinches your side at your comment, taking more food and dumping it in your bowl. “No more nonsense. Eat, or you’re never getting your drink back.”

“You’re so bossy,” you grumble, but you take a few bites anyway, and he looks pleased when he sees you finish a little bit more of the rice.

Until you see Jisung frantically taking out his phone in your peripheral vision, his screen lighting up with something that makes him let out a guttural groan. Donghyuck and Chenle pause their conversation temporarily, just to turn towards him.

“What’s wrong?” Chenle asks, and Jisung seems to hesitate, fingers drumming on the table as he meets your gazes one by one.

“I forgot I have filming at eight tomorrow. Fuck,” he says, ruffling his own hair in frustration.

“And your dorm’s so far away from here too…”

You look at Mark, trying to think of a solution.

“Jisung?” The boy opposite looks up at your mention of his name. “How about you stay at our place tonight?” you offer.

He seems to think about it, glancing towards Mark for approval as well. Your roommate only shrugs. “Sure. We’ll make space.”

All at once, Jisung’s features seem to light up, and he clasps his hands together, head bent down. “Thank you. You two are lifesavers.”

His earnest words make you laugh softly. “Should we head back then? It’s late.”

Mark nods, motioning for the bill, and you pack up your things.

Eventually, the five of you leave the restaurant and step out onto the smooth cobblestone of the street, with Jisung, Donghyuck and Chenle in front while you and Mark trail behind.

“i can’t believe it’s already November,” Mark comments, gaze tilted upwards to the sky.

“Honestly, I don’t think I’ve even registered that we’re in our final year. Much less that the first semester is ending.”

“But you’ve got everything all planned out already, haven't you?”

“Sort of,” you reply sheepishly, and Mark laughs, shaking his head. “You’re way too ambitious. It’s a little scary.”

“Pretty sure I remember someone saying that ambition led to success in my high school Civics class. Either way, I want to retire by the time I’m forty.”

“Before that, could you use your income to buy us a bigger apartment?”

“What, you think we’ll be roommates with each other until I’m forty?”

“I don’t see why not,” Mark says earnestly, and it makes the space he takes up in your heart get a little bigger, curling warmly at the edges.

“I’ll think about it. Maybe I’ll move to an island in the middle of nowhere, away from civilization.”

‘As if. You’re a city girl,” he points out, and you know that Mark knows that you know he’s right. “So, roommates at forty?” he asks, and your lips tilt up involuntarily.

“Sure.”

It’s not long before you’re standing at the entrance of your apartment building, Donghyuck and Chenle waving goodbye before they head to the subway station. Meanwhile, Jisung follows behind the both of you, slightly reminiscent of a lost puppy.

Once you’re back home, you quickly hang your jacket in the cabinet. “I’m showering first, okay?”

The two boys make a noise of assent at your question, and you assume Mark’s going to lend Jisung his clothes to change into as they go down the hallway.

It’s only when you step out of the bathroom that you hear the soft background sound effects of some video game from Mark’s room, Jisung occasionally exclaiming something inaudible, and you smile slightly. Your best friend isn’t one for these sorts of things, but it’s quite a big hobby for the rest of them. There have been a few times where you’ve shuffled out of your bedroom at midnight to tell them to quiet down, usually receiving a few quickly muttered apologies before Donghyuck’s screaming at Mark to get his head in the game.

You hope that they won’t stay up too late, mainly for Jisung’s sake - he has a shoot, after all, and you’re pretty sure Mark doesn’t have any morning lessons on Saturdays.

Sleep finds you quickly, the alcohol from earlier making you just the right amount of drowsy as you attempt to set an alarm for tomorrow for breakfast.

“Y/N.”

“Hey, wake up.”

“Y/N.”

You let out a groan into your pillow, turning away from the dream voice that sounds suspiciously like Mark - you’re too tired to deal with this.

But the voice doesn’t go away, instead changing to an insisted hand on your shoulder, shaking you awake, and you open your eyes to glare sleepily at your best friend, before looking at the clock.

“It’s four in the morning, Mark. Unless there’s a fire or something-”

“If there was a fire, I’d sound a lot more panicked than this, don’t you think?” he shoots back sarcastically, and you take in his appearance - he’s wearing a grey hoodie, a pillow hugged in his left arm, and looking just a little forlorn.

“What is it? I want to sleep,” you mumble.

“Jisung takes up too much space. And he snores.”

“Just push him.”

“I tried! Fell off the bed,” he confesses, and you would laugh at the scene, except that you’re still half-asleep.

“Can I just sleep here for tonight?” he asks, doe eyes blinking at you blearily, and you hesitate at the request - it’s not like you’re uncomfortable with Mark sleeping next to you. You’ve fallen asleep on his shoulder plenty of times, and there was that one time where you literally passed out drunk and the boy had to piggyback you to your apartment, but this is your bed.

However, you’re also well aware that Mark’s bed is a twin size, which is smaller and probably highly uncomfortable for him and Jisung to share, while yours is a queen.

You were being overdramatic. It was just a bed, and Mark was your best friend. Of three years, no less.

Also, it literally didn’t have to mean anything.

Right?

There was plenty of space. Enough for you to keep your distance from him.

You chalk up your doubts to late-night overthinking, and nod slowly. Well, as best as someone can nod while lying on their side, but it’s enough for Mark to smile at you gratefully.

“Take the left side. If you move over, I’ll kick you,” you threaten, and he nods eagerly. “Noted.”

And just for security, you place a pillow between the both of you.

It’s only when he’s lying down next to you, breathing evened out, that you peek open one eye. “Go to sleep.”

“Yeah, I will soon,” he promises, turning to face you. In the darkness of the room, you can barely make out his features, but you can hear the smile in his voice when he speaks. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

Something about it feels strangely sweet, enough for your cheeks to redden slightly as you turn resolutely away from him, staring hard at the wall of your cabinet. “Night.”

Two months into your lease with Mark, the both of you had created your informal agreement, otherwise labelled as ‘Roommate Code of Honour’ on Mark’s Notes app.

“Code of honour? What are you, a boy scout?”

“I was, actually. First-class,” Mark says without hesitation, and you almost choke on the mouthful of chocolate cake that you have.

“Makes sense.” He seemed exactly like the kind of person who would be a boy scout.

“Anyways, this is just for us to put down stuff that we think is important. Like, I know that we’re supposed to separate the blacks and whites, but-”

“But-”

“What about coloured clothing?” he asks, and you gape at him. “Mark, have you been washing all the coloured clothes together?”

“Maybe…” he trails off, gaze leaving yours and anxiously taking a sip of the drink.

“Okay, this is a good idea. Give me your phone,” you say as you stretch out your hand, but Mark pulls his phone back from you.

“This is meant to be a collaborative process, Y/N.”

“It wasn’t collaborative the moment you turned all my white shirts grey.”

Mark winces at that. “Fair point. But we still need to be equal on this.”

“Fine,” you relent.

And over an hour, seated on the second floor of your favourite cafe, you and Mark pick the ten most important things that you want to keep, the others either compromised or decided as simply too insignificant.

#1: money (mark covers utilities, y/n handles groceries and household items)

#2: always put the toilet seat back down (and clean your hair off the sink after shaving)

“You leave hair all over the place too!” Mark protests, and you roll your eyes.

#2: always put the toilet seat back down (and clean your hair off everywhere)

#3: laundry and cleaning the house will be alternated each week

#4: two days’ advance notice before having anyone over (not required for hyuck, yeji, jaemin or karina)

“Does this include hookups?” you ask, and Mark blushes at that question. “Yeah, I guess.”

“No hookups on nights where the other person has to wake up early the next day,” you add, and he nods. “Sure.”

Most of them are trivial, but important - and despite all your teasing, you’re grateful for someone like Mark, who’s willing to be a good roommate.

Until you reach the last one, which makes you smile.

#10: movie nights are every friday at 10pm

Mark had argued something about ‘roommate bonding’, or the importance of relationship-building- you weren’t quite sure what exactly, but the idea had sounded good to you.

Because you’d never been one for university parties, preferring to stay in unless your presence was absolutely required, but the idea of unwinding with your close friend at the end of the week was a welcome form of socialization.

“Do we pick the movie every week?” you ask, and he nods. “We can make a list too.”

“Okay.” You slide the phone back over to him, finishing the last of your coffee. “I think this looks good.”

“Me too,” Mark says, satisfaction tugging at his lips, and his eyes are bright as he looks at you.

The atmosphere feels strangely light and hopeful - as if it’s just the very start of something.

And you’re right - because throughout sophomore and junior year, Mark becomes the one most constant thing in your life. The both of you have changed slightly in your own ways, but the movie nights are still the one thing you look forward to at the end of the week, where your legs are thrown over his lap and whatever takeout you’ve gotten for dinner spread out over the coffee table.

Today is another one of those days, and you wonder how both you and Mark haven’t run out of movies to watch yet - he said something about Avatar today, you think, having sent you a text earlier of the poster.

When you kick off your shoes in the doorway, Mark’s already on the couch, absentmindedly nibbling at the popcorn.

“Starting without me?” you ask, and he shakes his head, handing you your own bowl.

It was another thing that the both of you had agreed on - after all, you liked your popcorn sweet and caramel-flavoured, and while you couldn’t understand how someone liked salty popcorn, well - there was Mark.

Which meant two separate bowls chock-full of the snack, enough to make the both of you happy.

“Mark,” you start, and the man hums in acknowledgement. “You know we have a Disney Plus subscription, right? And Netflix too?”

“Yeah, but the movie just came out like, five days ago. This is pirated.”

“We can just wait for it to be uploaded, then.”

“But I really want to watch it,” he half-pleads and half-whines. “Besides, Hyuck went, and he’ll definitely spoil it.”

You suppose he’s right, but as you lean back, crossing your legs on the couch, you frown. “We’re going to get porn pop-ups every thirty minutes.”

He coughs awkwardly at that, making you grin slightly. It’s strange how shy he gets, considering you’d expect Mark to at least have some experience with girls - or at least not act like the topic of sex is enough to make him embarrassed.

However, he’s still fiddling with the laptop, crouched next to the console, when you poke his side with your foot.

You have a crazy idea. A good one, but crazy nonetheless.

“What if we went to the cinema right now?” you ask, and he blinks at you, stunned.

“Right now? It’s like, one hour to midnight.”

“Yeah. I’m pretty sure they have showings.” You whip out your phone for emphasis, quickly going to the website and letting out a hum of satisfaction when you find it.

“Thirty minutes. We can make it.”

Mark looks at you hesitantly - always having been the less spontaneous one of the both of you. But it’s a Friday, after all, and it’s good, harmless fun.

And you know he really wants to watch the movie, if the way he’s on freemovies123.com and patiently waiting for each risqué ad to disappear is any indication.

“I’ll pay for tickets,” you offer, smiling knowingly when he lights up a little - it’s characteristic of any college student to perk up at the mention of anything free, after all, and you know he’s slowly shifting to a ‘yes’.

It’s barely a few seconds before he shuts his laptop, meeting your gaze. “We should get changed. It’s cold out today.”

There’s one good thing about having a roommate with a driving license - that it’s not you.

Because while Mark worries about traffic lights and less-than-friendly taxi drivers, you’re staring out the window absentmindedly, enjoying Bruno Major filtering out the speakers.

It had been one thing he wanted - a good sound system, just so the both of you could enjoy your playlists on the road.

Thankfully, the timing means that there’s barely anyone else around as Mark goes down the highway, humming softly to the music.

“I like late-night drives with you,” you chirp, gaze fixed on Mark’s expression as he smiles, face fading in and out of the golden light of the street lamps.

“Any particular reason?”

“You’re a good driver,” you start, and he turns towards you briefly, narrowing his eyes. “You make me sound like an Uber hire.”

“Um-” you lick your lips. “You have good music?” you try, and your best friend lets out a laugh that sounds more like a scoff, shaking his head. “You’re hopeless,” he says, and you immediately lean closer, shaking your head.

“It’s not just that! When you drive, I-” you hesitate, trying to find the exact words. “I feel really safe. I don’t really feel that way with anyone else on the road.”

Mark doesn’t respond for a few moments, but from the way his hands tighten on the wheel, you know he heard every word clearly.

After a while, he finally speaks.

“Is that why you get me to drive you everywhere?” he asks, and you nod slowly, until you see the corners of his mouth turned up in amusement, earning him a punch on the shoulder from you.

“Don’t laugh. I’m serious. Car accidents can do a lot to a person, you know.”

It’s only then that Mark straightens. “Car accident?”

“Yeah,” you hum, fiddling with the volume of the music to turn it down. “Got into one when I was a kid.”

“How bad?”

“Not that bad. I was in the backseat, so there were only a few scrapes. The other car got it worse, honestly.”

You’ve never told anyone else about this, simply because it’s never quite come up. But when you spend so much time with someone like Mark, small snippets of your life come up eventually - like how you know he sprained his ankle once playing soccer, or that he failed art in elementary school but got perfect grades for music.

And when the feeling of his hand settles warmly over yours, you’re yanked out of your thoughts, blankly staring at his fingers winding themselves between your thumb and your index.

It causes heat to flood through you, even though you’re aware the action is meant to be soothing.

When you hear his next words, however, it’s enough to make your heart soften to a dangerous degree - of such unspeakable fondness that only Mark has been able to elicit to some extent.

“I’ll drive you everywhere from now on, okay? Promise,” he smiles softly as he says it, tugging your pinky towards his own before you can even respond to seal the agreement.

Even when he was a kid, Mark took easily to leadership.

He remembers standing on the podium on his first day on the job as student president, socks cuffed at the perfect length past his ankles, as he delivered his first stuttered-out address to hundreds of middle-schoolers no older than him.

It got easier after that, as he fell into the role more comfortably.

After that, it was chairperson of his high-school music club, helping to compose different pieces for the summer and winter festivals.

Now, in university, he supposes there aren’t really things like student council presidents anymore - everyone is interested in their own lives, and Mark’s not entirely sure he enjoys the entire process of putting himself out there to be judged.

It’s always been the people who made him want to do what he did, and Mark supposes that now his attention is turned to his friends. Reigning in Donghyuck’s more mischievous and unrestrained impulses, preventing Jisung from making the same naive decisions he did at twenty, or getting Jaemin to leave the house to meet his friends and not give in to his natural tendency of isolation - it’s something that he does gladly. Mark would like to think that he knows his friends well, and being the oldest makes him the best-suited to take on the responsibility.

Still, there are times when he likes letting go, not thinking and worrying so hard - most of the time it’s being alone with just his guitar. In those few hours, his brain seems to go perfectly quiet.

Other times, it’s you pulling him into a cinema at midnight, two movie tickets and a brand-new box of popcorn hugged in your arm.

When you halt your footsteps, Mark doesn’t even realise until you’re standing in front of him. If he just angled his face down slightly, the tips of your noses would brush.

“Didn’t you say you really wanted to watch this?” you ask, lashes fluttering, and Mark nods. “Yeah.”

“Then why do you look so sad?” You’re frowning at him, and he has the temptation to smooth out the line in your forehead with his thumb.

“I’m really happy, actually,” he murmurs, and he means it. There’s something about this entire thing that makes him feel more peaceful than he has in a long time. “I was just thinking.”

Thinking about you, to say the least. He didn’t know he could be so comfortable with a person, that spending time felt as easy as breathing.

Thankfully, you don’t question his cryptic words further, only tightening your hold on the tickets. “Let’s walk quicker then. You always complain when we miss the beginning of movies.”

You say it with the easy familiarity of someone who knows him well, and Mark laughs softly. “That’s because you always take too long to get ready.”

“I don’t!”

“You once spent one hour trying to curl your hair, and then decided to leave it straight.”

“That was for your cousin’s wedding. My hair needed to look decent. Besides, I’m the only plus one you have. Who would you ask? Hyuck?”

“Maybe. I’m sure he’d look good in a wig.”

“But your family loves me,” you say smugly, and Mark can’t give a response against that, because you’re right. You’re practically adored by everyone, from his grandparents to even his youngest niece.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” he murmurs, but you only grin. “Can’t help it.”

Eventually, you finally reach the doors of the cinema hall, and Mark pushes the door open, a cold gust of air-conditioning hitting the both of you directly as you make your way down to the seats.

When you shiver, he looks at you disapprovingly. “I thought I told you to wear something warm.”

“A long-sleeved shirt is warm,” you protest, and he huffs, but shrugs off his denim jacket anyways.

“Take it. If you get a flu, I have to take care of you.”

“Thank you,” you say sweetly, quickly wearing it on. “Besides, you owe me one for that time you got stomach flu.”

Mark shivers at the very mention of it. Almost six months ago, and yet he still remembers barely being able to get out of bed. That week, you had come home immediately each time your lectures ended, searching up different websites for recipes that wouldn't upset his stomach. Porridge, soups, stews - Mark was pretty sure you had cycled through hundreds of different ingredients, and blew a complete hole in your allowance deliberately only buying organic, but you resolutely refused to tell him about it until he found you eating instant ramen the next month.

It was equal parts frustrating and endearing - the way you wouldn’t tell anyone about your problems, until you were pestered endlessly. Not so different from him, he supposed, though you took it to an even greater degree.

“Mark, I can hear you thinking. Stop and watch the movie,” you chide, grabbing his upturned palm and placing a handful of popcorn on it.

He turns to see you, profile lit against the bright lights of the screen, as you laugh at some advertisement being shown, eyes bright despite the late hour, and Mark thinks this might become one of his favourite memories with you.

And it does, even when you fall asleep in the car four hours later and he has to carry you up, your arms slung around his neck.

Mark Lee is showering when he hears a scream.

It’s shrill enough to make him turn off the water, the steam clearing until he sees his own reflection in the glass.

“Y/N? You good?” He asks it loud enough for you to hear, but there isn’t a response.

You’re not a jumpy person, and while you would probably be alright if he just continued his shower, a what if of worry has Mark wrapping a towel around his waist and opening the door.

However, you’re nowhere to be seen in the hallway, and Mark moves to the living room, seeing you backfacing him, a spoon still in your hands and your posture unnaturally defensive.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, and you turn, an expression of abject horror etched on your features.

“There’s a cockroach somewhere. I saw it on the floor, and it’s gone now,” you say in a rush, and Mark laughs.

“Don’t laugh! This is serious,” you say to him, and your roommate only shakes his head. He’s aware of your fear of bugs, though, which is why he takes the spoon from your hands and steers you towards the hallway.

“If you’re that scared, go to your room. I’ll catch it later.”

You nod in agreement. “You still have shampoo in your hair, by the way,” you point out, and he rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, because someone screamed so loud that I thought there was a murderer in our apartment.”

“I think I would have a better chance of surviving anyways,” you bite back, and Mark glances doubtfully at the spoon in your hand, and then back at you.

“Sure, Y/N.”

You wave him off. “Enjoy your shower.”

However, right as Mark places his hand on the door handle, there’s another shriek. He spots the cockroach first, scuttling across the floor, before he sees you barrelling towards him.

“Oh my god!” you shout as you run towards Mark, and his arms reflexively open as you hug him tightly in fear - not entirely registering the fact that he is still very much half-naked.

You’re gripping onto him tightly, face buried into the crook of his neck, and it’s a few seconds before Mark realizes the proximity of your position, every inch of your body warm against his bare skin.

It’s enough to make the tips of his ears flush scarlet, and Mark can’t hear anything other than the aggressive beating of his heart.

“Um, Y/N-” he makes an attempt to start, patting you on the shoulder gently. “Let me go.”

You seem to realise it at the same time he does, quickly stepping back, eyes wide. “Shit, sorry.”

Mark lets out a laugh, even though it comes out choked. “It’s okay. Just- I’ll shower and come right back out, okay?”

“Yeah. That’s a good idea,” you stutter out, all thoughts of the insect forgotten as you backtrack hastily into your room, quickly shutting the door behind you.

Mark stares blankly at the oak wood of your bedroom door, before blinking to clear his head. “Jesus,” he mutters, wondering what the hell just happened.

His body feels warm all over, almost like he’s having a fever, and it’s like he can still feel the sensation of your palms flat against his lower back, your breath tickling the space between his neck and shoulder.

And when he sees his reflection in the mirror, there are two spots of bright red on his cheeks.

Everything returns to normal after that.

Well, almost.

Other than the fact that Mark can’t seem to stop thinking about you.

It’s bad enough that as his roommate and best friend, you already take up a decently large space of his brain - whether it’s worrying about when you’ll get home once it’s past midnight, or messaging you to ask if you want takeout.

But something about this is a hundred times worse.

Because just the sight of you is enough to have blood rushing to his face, his head darting down to avoid your gaze.

And Mark feels stupid. For God’s sake, he’s not some teenage boy - he’s already twenty-three, and yet he’s acting like a twelve-year-old who just held hands with a girl for the first time.

He’s shared a bed with you. He’s watched you cry after you failed your first exam, tears and snot balled up into countless tissues and filling up the little trashbin in your room. At some point, he had helped to clean up your vomit when you got a bad case of food poisoning.

To be fair, that was because the pancakes he made for breakfast were only half-cooked, so it was sort of his responsibility.

But the fact remains that Mark’s done hundreds of things with you, and spent countless hours by your side - all of which have allowed him to function normally without feeling like his heart is about to combust.

But now, he can’t even sit next to you without his words turning into stuttering chunks of speech.

It doesn’t help that you’re also naturally affectionate, a habit that you picked up from Donghyuck, of all people, and each time you slide your arm into his or wrap a hand around his waist is enough to have his brain short-circuit.

Deep down, Mark has an inkling why he’s like this.

He just really hopes it isn’t true.

It’s not something he’s told anyone, not Chenle, not Renjun, not even Hyuck, who practically knows all of Mark’s deepest, darkest secrets.

That for a minuscule, short duration of three months, Mark had a crush on you. The pretty girl who he collided directly into on the very first day.

There were times when he wondered if the coffee trips could be labelled dates, or if it was a figment of his hyperactive imagination and racing heart. And as the both of you got closer, Mark always teetered between the temptation of trying to ask you out and the fear that he still didn’t know you that well.

Until the both of you got too close as friends, and it was more comfortable to simply stay within the boundaries of friendship. And eventually, Mark put it behind him, seeing those three initial months as nothing more but a simple infatuation that preceded his friendship with you.

And it wasn’t like you had expressed a lot of interest in him either, occasionally complaining to Mark about dates you went on or the newest eye candy that you had seen on campus.

So he let it go, and Mark thought he could be perfectly happy like this.

Until last week, when he was returned to freshman year.

Since then, Mark has been avoiding you with the excuse of coursework, partly for the own good of his heart and also because he doesn’t want to throw you off with his sudden, odd behaviour.

But you know him a little too well, which means that when Friday comes, you’re banging on his bedroom door.

“Mark Lee, I know you’re done with your coursework. Let me in,” you demand, and the man gulps nervously, wishing that he’d bought those noise-cancelling headphones so he could at least use them as an excuse.

He sidles towards the door reluctantly, feet dragging even as little pinpricks of excitement jab at his heart - a sensation he’s quickly come to associate with you.

“Hey. Um, you need anything?” he asks, voice tight with nervousness.

“I need to know why my best friend’s avoiding me like the plague,” you say without hesitating, slipping in through the small space between his body and the door before he can kick you out.

“i’m not avoiding you. I’m just really busy,” Mark lies. “Like, with school and stuff.”

God, it sounds bad even to his ears.

“I hope you know I didn’t believe that for a second,” you say, walking to his desk and looking directly at his completely-shut laptop.

“I-” Mark’s throat feels dry as you abruptly turn towards him, cutting across the room and facing him directly, hands squared on your hips as you tilt your head.

“Did you commit a crime? I know how to hide a body, you know.”

“…No?”

“Forgot to pay rent? Left the stove on? Or-”

“It’s none of that!” He says, hands instinctively reaching for your shoulders to halt you from listing any other potential transgressions he might have made.

And when you meet his eyes again, you look properly frustrated, before you seem to sink slightly, voice turning a little softer.

“Did I do something…wrong? You can tell me, you know.” You blink up at him slowly, and Mark’s heart feels bittersweet as he sees the slight worry in your gaze.

“No. Of course not.” Guilt rises in his stomach - of course his standoffish behaviour would make you think the worst. ‘’It’s none of that.”

Mark wishes that he could kick his feelings to the side and shove them far down, if only to make the doubt in your features go away. Considering that it’s you he has these feelings for, however, makes the task seem near impossible, but Mark thinks it doesn’t hurt to try.

So he smiles, bright enough to make you relax a little. “It’s really just school. I realised I actually need to do well to graduate, and I didn’t want my stress to get to you.”

At his words, your eyes glaze over with a familiar, warm empathy, and Mark tries not to let his relief become too palpable. “I get it. But, Mark-”

“Hm?”

“You can come to me for these sorts of things, you know? When you’re stressed. I want to be that person for you.”

What you’re saying is simple- expected, even, considering the nature of your relationship with him, but it still knocks the breath out of Mark.

He’s loved by you. That much is clear, even if it’s not exactly in the way he so desperately wishes to be loved by you. But even this is enough.

“Okay. Yeah, I will,” he promises, realising that he doesn’t hate the bittersweet feeling in his heart that is already so closely associated with you - not when it’s constantly soothed by the quiet happiness of having you by his side.

“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” You loop your arm in his, pulling him out of the room. “Since that’s resolved, no more hiding in your room.”

“But-”

“No buts. We study here from now on. you’re not the only one with exams, you know,” you say as you bring your books and laptop out, scattering them across the dining table.

Mark can tell when you’ve set your mind on something, and so he doesn’t resist, placing his own things opposite you and welcoming it when you smile in approval.

For a while, he sits there blankly - he wasn’t even studying in the first place, after all, and he’s already well-prepared for his technical exam next week, but he’s pulled out of his thoughts when you call his name expectantly.

You’ve already made yourself comfortable by the window, your headphones resting snugly around your ears as you tilt your head at him, eyes bright.

You look pretty, as always.

But Mark’s almost-adoring gaze is left unnoticed by you as you frown at him. Study, you mouth, picking up your textbook and pointing to it for emphasis in a way that makes a laugh bubble out his chest.

It’s cute. You’re cute.

If he doesn’t do as you say, however, Mark’s cover will genuinely be busted, and so the man genuinely tries to immerse himself in revision for his readings as best as he can.

And if he occasionally sneaks glances just to admire you in the golden glow of dusk that spills through the window - well, it didn’t happen if you didn’t catch him, did it?

You’re standing in the kitchen when you hear Mark’s bedroom door open, and a soft yawn from the hallway.

“Morning. I made toast, and Chenle gave us a new bottle of jam the other day,” you say, pushing a plate across the counter.

“Thanks,” he says, voice still rough from sleep and eyes only half-open as he munches absentmindedly at the first piece of bread he picks up.

He’s always the sleepiest on Thursday mornings, mainly because the lectures are first thing in the morning and on the furthest side of the campus. And considering how much of a night owl Mark is, waking up anytime before ten is practically punishment for him.

Meanwhile, you’re perfectly chirpy, already having gotten your first coffee of the day down and your usual omelette slowly cooking away in the pan.

“You know, Donghyuck suggested doing a trip during winter break,” you say, and Mark hums in agreement, thinking it over. “To where?”

“Out of the city. Maybe to the beach. I think it would be fun.”

“Are you going to plan it, then?” he asks, and you nod excitedly. You’ve always had a penchant for travelling, and maybe it’s because of your course in early education - you’re already used to organizing different programmes.

“I was thinking we would do a barbecue, and then maybe just some games and karaoke. Though I’m sure some of the guys want to go biking, and I think Yeji mentioned doing a pottery class or checking out local markets.” You ramble out all your ideas in a rush, but Mark only nods at your every word.

“I’m sure we can figure something out.”

“We just need to find a house big enough for all twelve of us- ouch!” Your sentence is cut off by a sharp exclamation of pain as you pull your hand back, an unsightly red patch already forming on the area between your index and thumb.

You hadn’t even realised you had gotten that close to the stove when you turned around to speak to Mark. It’s not your first time getting burned - you had accidentally brushed your arm against the top of your oven when you were sixteen, but the pain is enough to make you wince in alarm.

Still, it’s tolerable as you rush to the sink and turn on the cold water, Mark materializing by your side within seconds.

“You okay?” he asks, now fully-awake as he grabs your wrist, turning it over gently to inspect the injury.

“Yeah.” You shake your head. “Small mistake. I’ll manage it.”

You turn off the tap, planning to get some ice, but Mark’s faster than you. “Take this. I’ll get the antiseptic cream.”

“I can handle it. You should get ready for class,” you urge, but he shakes his head, already disappearing down the hallway.

When he reappears, the small white tube is in his hands, and Mark motions for you to place your hand in his. “This might hurt a little,” he murmurs, blinking up at you through his lashes, and you nod.

“Wouldn’t have thought.”

You don’t get to make another wisecrack, however, the moment his thumb brushes over the wound. Mark’s gentle, dabbing at it as softly as possible, but your breathing still tightens.

Eventually, the sting gets a little more bearable, and you watch as the reddish patch fades to a less angry tone. “Done,” Mark says, quickly smoothing a plaster over it. “Don’t let it get near water, and don’t let it get dirty.”

“Got it, dad.” He rolls his eyes at that and you nudge his shoulder. “You really should go for class now.”

“Are you sure you’ll be alright?” he asks, eyes wide, and the concern that’s evident in Mark’s eyes makes your heart flutter warmly. “It’s just a burn, Mark. The next time I break my leg, I’ll make you carry me around for a month.”

He frowns. “Don’t say that. I don’t want you to break a leg.”

“I’ll be careful, I promise. Look, if you’re that worried-” you stretch your hand out to him, palm facing the ceiling as you grin. “-you can kiss it better.”

The request is a teasing one, one that you expect to turn Mark the colour of a tomato - after all, he’s made shy easily, and always embarrassed at things like this.

Yet, what you don’t expect is the immediate feeling of the boy’s lips against your skin, no hesitation on his part as he places the gentlest of kisses at the corner between your thumb and your index.

You freeze. There’s no way Mark just did that.

There’s no way the same person who would shove you away when you attempted to place a kiss on his cheek, nervously sputtering, or the one who jerked away the first time you tried to hug him, is now smiling up at you in a way that could be seen as almost cocky, eyes blinking innocently up at you.

“Better?” he asks lowly, placing another kiss for emphasis in a way that makes your heart go haywire.

Your throat feels dry when you make an attempt to reply to him. “Yeah. All better,” you force out, quickly retracting your hand and shoving it into the pocket of your sweatpants. Far away from boys who think it’s a good idea to kiss it and make your mind go blank.

“Well, I’m going, then,” he says, now finally having the familiar lopsided grin that you’re used to - despite that, however, your heart lurches with fondness as you watch him grab his bag and hoodie before waving at you.

“Bye,” you exhale out, hands unconsciously finding the cool marble of the countertop in a quest for stability, until the door finally shuts.

You’re faced with an empty hallway, finally, as you attempt to process the events of the past fifteen minutes, the pain of the burn now an afterthought.

What the fuck just happened?

Mark thinks he might be going insane.

Completely, veritably insane.

Kissing your hand was an impulse decision - mainly because he wanted to get back at you for making those flirtatious remarks all the damn time without any idea of how they messed with his head.

But part of it was also because you had asked so sweetly, and Mark found himself quite incapable of refusing you. And the two spots of pink that had dusted your cheeks after were worth it.

However, it seems that he’s suffering much more than you are - what with the events of the past week. It’s as if he can’t help but notice the smallest, most insignificant things about you, that are enough to make him fall a little deeper, a little further down to where it’s harder to get out.

Like how you hum to yourself when you water the plants on the windowsill, and it’s always that one song - the one that your dad played for you as a kid, and which you added into Mark’s playlist without him knowing. Or how Mark always leaves his guitar all over the house, but you make sure to return it to its usual spot next to his bed.

Even worse, you’re always leaning your head on his shoulder, or reaching out to fiddle with the strings of his hoodie. It feels good being close to you - Mark loves it, in fact, but it also makes him terribly nervous in a way that makes him stiffen awkwardly whenever you brush a little too close to him.

Now, however, Mark realises he might be the one on the losing end as he sits in his Structural Analysis lecture and wonders what it would be like to actually kiss you.

His pen is spinning in his hands - he hasn’t written down a single thing in the past thirty minutes, and Mr Lee’s already sending him suspicious glances from across the room, but Mark has mostly been a model student for the past two years, which is why he supposes his lecturer bites his tongue.

Still, he can’t keep going like this. Not when he feels like his heart is constantly about to burst out of his chest, and he has to physically stop himself from spinning you by the waist and planting his lips firmly on yours.

Of course, he’d never do that unless you gave any indication that you wanted it, but it’s hard. It’s hard to have you so close and yet completely out of Mark’s reach.

As a child, he would stand at the seashore, feet half-buried in the sand as he looked out to the glittering blue expanse of sea, and the horizon that lay beyond. There was always something about the warm orange hues and pink streaks that took his breath away, so beautiful that he wanted to swim towards it endlessly.

You’re his horizon now, a thousand gorgeous sunsets contained in a single person and enough to make Mark feel like he’s living and dying all at once.

The next week, you’re sitting on the couch scrolling on your phone when Mark’s footsteps alert you to his presence.

Right as you lift your head to see him, however, you frown. “Why are you dressed like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like…you’re going to work out. Or something,” you reply, giving him a once-over. Joggers, a dry-fit shirt and track shoes, complete with a water bottle in his hands - something’s definitely up.

“That’s because I am,” he answers, an amused tilt of his lips evident as he takes in the surprise on your face.

“No way. I tried getting you to do that fitness program in freshman year, and you said you’d rather die than exercise.”

“That was because I can’t do yoga for shit. I’m going to the gym with Jeno today.”

At the mention of the other boy, you nod, slowly processing the information. It makes sense that Jeno would drag him to the gym, considering the boy has long made a habit of it with Jaemin. But still, the fact that Mark agreed makes you narrow your eyes.

“Why the sudden interest, though?” you ask, turning over to rest your head on the couch and stretch out your legs.

Mark only shrugs, slinging his towel over his shoulder. “Finally found the time. Besides, seniors get free access. If you didn’t notice, I’ve been going with Jeno since the start of the year.”

It’s currently June, which means six months. Though it’s likely that you probably couldn’t make the distinction between when he was going to the gym or lessons, because Mark perpetually lived in sweatpants and a hoodie.

“Fair enough. Have fun,” you call, tugging a pillow to hug to your body as you find a new social media site to scroll through.

However, you find your eyes drifting to Mark as he fills his bottle at the sink, carefully scrutinising your best friend for any evident changes.

You suppose his shoulders have broadened considerably since freshman year, jawline a little more defined than the round-cheeked boy you first met. Nothing out of the ordinary - plenty of the same changes had happened to the other boys, and it wasn’t as if you hadn’t made changes to your own appearance over the many years.

However, Mark’s usually dressed in the baggiest of sweaters and hoodies, only changing into a fitted shirt today due to the warm summer weather, and your cheeks redden when you find your eyes drifting to the way the muscles in his back stretch when he reaches for something on the upper shelf, a faint line appearing on his forearms as he unscrews the cap and adds his vitamins inside.

He looks good. Better than he should. You don’t even realize you’re shamelessly ogling your best friend until he looks up at you, eyes directly meeting yours in a way that makes you jump.

“Everything okay?” he asks, and you nod slowly, forcing your eyes away from anything but the way his collarbones peek out from beneath his shirt.

This is Mark. Your roommate, who you most definitely shouldn’t stare at in a borderline-creepy way. no matter how attractive he may seem.

Thankfully, you regain your senses quickly enough, darting your head back down until it’s half-veiled by the pillow. “Get a grip, Y/N,” you mutter to yourself.

“Well, I’m gonna go,” Mark calls, and you physically stop yourself from looking up, instead choosing to extend your arm upwards to wave.

“Bye! Go!” you say with no little urgency, sensing Mark’s palpable confusion from your bizarre confusion a few metres away.

Nevertheless, he grabs his things, the door eventually closing shut.

It’s halfway through his last set that Jeno appears above Mark, a bottle of ice-cold water in his hands.

“Thanks,” he says as he sits up from the bench press, quickly taking a large gulp. “What are you doing after this?”

“Giselle asked me to grab dinner with her.”

At his words, Mark grins, nudging Jeno’s knee. “Do the both of you have something going on?”

Jeno only huffs, brushing a strand of hair out of his face. “We’re just friends. Don’t overthink it. You and Y/N, on the other hand…”

The mention of your name is enough to make Mark cough awkwardly, gaze darting away. And while Jeno doesn’t say anything, it’s Jaemin who’s perceptive as ever, a teasing smile on his face as he meets Mark’s nervous gaze.

“Out with it. What’s up with the both of you?” he asks curiously.

“Um,” Mark coughs, swiping off the beads of sweat that seem to have mysteriously materialized at his temples. “Nothing.”

It’s as honest of a reply that he can give, because there really isn’t much for Mark to say. While Mark freaks out inside each time you say something, life seems to be going on normally for you.

Jeno hums. “Doesn’t seem like nothing.”

Frustration bubbles up in Mark at those words, though it’s not directed at Jaemin or Jeno, but instead at himself.

“I mean, I like her-”

“I knew it,” Jaemin declares, crossing his arms over his chest. “Took you long enough.”

Mark leans back, chuckling softly. “Just realised it myself a few days ago, honestly.”

It wasn’t as if Mark hadn’t had a crush on anyone before - rather, it was that being with you felt slightly different from the rest. The butterflies aside, there was something else that tugged at the pit of his stomach each time he thought about you. It was akin to the split-second adrenaline he felt on top of rollercoasters, just before it came tumbling straight down.

And he wasn’t sure what to make of that. Mark thought a better word to describe his affection for you was yearning, rather than just a simple like. Like didn’t seem to quite explain how being in your presence never quite tired him out, how you were the one person that Mark didn’t need a social battery for. He was simply so used to you at this point, that having you around felt natural, felt right.

“He’s definitely in love. Look at him,” Jaemin whispers to his dormmate, just out of Mark’s earshot. Jeno’s eyes only crinkle slightly, as he shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter if he won’t do anything about it.”

The first time someone called Donghyuck a himbo was sophomore year.

He had sat next to Shin Ryujin, hungover from the night before, and it took him a full fifteen minutes to realise that he did indeed have an assignment due that day, one which his professor was currently collecting.

Naturally, he did what any desperate student would do - he turned to Ryujin and asked very nicely if he could borrow her work, to which she had only ignored him and turned back to her own laptop.

“It’s a creative assignment. Mrs Park’s not going to scroll through two identical assignments without busting your ass.”

“I could change some of the grammar,” Donghyuck offers helpfully, but the glare that she flashes him makes him shrink back.

“Just ask her for an extension.”

“I’m scared.”

“You’re already known as the campus himbo. What do you have to be scared of?”

“A himbo?” Donghyuck tilts his head. He hasn’t heard anyone describe him as a himbo yet, though he’s received things like idiot, annoying asshole, dumbass motherfu- most of them from Mark, but he doesn’t quite mention that to Shin Ryujin.

“It means you’re pretty to look at, but you’ve got nothing inside your head.”

Donghyuck grins. “You think I’m pretty?” he asks, batting his eyelashes for dramatic effect, and Ryujin rolls her eyes. “Even if you were pretty, your personality ruins it.”

“Hey!”

“I’m right, Donghyuck. You’re a daily reminder to me why I’m better off liking women,” she shoots, and he feels genuinely wounded at that.

“You just like women because you think Yeji’s pretty-” Donghyuck’s voice is muffled by Ryujin’s hand over his mouth, her gaze wide with alarm.

“She’s right there, Donghyuck. Mouth shut, or I’ll kill you,” she whispers harshly, eyes darting nervously to the girl she’s had a not-so-secret crush on for the longest time, before turning back to Donghyuck, who nods obediently.

“You should just tell her,” he advises, and Ryujin purses her lips, before shaking her head. “No. For one, I’m not sure if she likes women at all, and two - even if she did, I might not be her type.”

“Well, you can try.”

“And get rejected? No thanks,” she replies, closing the tabs on her laptop. “Besides, you shouldn’t been giving me advice. You would barely know if someone liked you back.”

Donghyuck supposes Ryujin was right then - he’s quite oblivious to cues, and God knows the number of girls that have confessed to him while he blinked at them cluelessly. It’s not his fault that he’s on the affectionate side, and Donghyuck is affectionate with everyone.

But now, this is different. This doesn’t involve him, and Donghyuck would like to think that he’s at least quite perceptive to a shift in two of his closest friends.

It doesn’t take him long to figure out why exactly Mark seems so skittish in your presence, or why you seem so tightly wound-up, like a spring about to snap.

The both of you have the largest, most embarrassing crushes on each other, and are somehow simultaneously oblivious to it.

And so, like every other normal, rational person, Donghyuck invites everyone except you and Mark to lunch to discuss his findings.

“What the fuck?” Renjun’s the first one to say something, staring at Donghyuck as if he’s grown a second head.

“Look, just trust me on this-”

“Are you sure about this?” Jaemin asks, taking a large sip of his drink, and Donghyuck nods earnestly, a serious expression on his face. “A hundred percent.”

“To be fair to him, we did all think they were going to date in the first year. I guess it’s finally happening.”

“Men and women can have platonic relationships, you know. Just because you have never enjoyed female friendship in your life doesn’t mean it’s impossible,” Ryujin points out to Jeno, who rolls his eyes.

“You thought they were dating too, Shin.”

“Fine,” she acquiesces, finally turning to Donghyuck and staring him down in a way that makes the male have to consciously bite back a shiver. “What do you plan to do about it?”

“That’s why I called you guys here.”

“You want us to help you figure out how to get your two best friends together?”

“They’re your friends too!”

“I say we lock them in a room until they kiss,” Chenle says, and like clockwork, Jisung turns to him, a look of horror on his face. “You can’t do that to people!”

But Chenle’s not looking at his best friend - no, he’s looking at Donghyuck, a silent challenge in his gaze.

It’s only then that Donghyuck sits up, posture changing enough to draw the eyes of everyone at the table - Karina, Yeji, Ryujin, Jeno, Chenle, Jisung, Jaemin and Renjun.

“You know what?” he says, a mischievous smile curling at the corner of his lips. “I don’t think that’s a bad idea.”

You’re halfway through your work when you hear a few rapid knocks at the door.

“Coming!” you shout, frowning - Mark’s out late tonight.

Until you look through the peephole, and you’re greeted by the sight of Jaemin’s face. “Oh, hey,” you say as you open the door. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m not sure, honestly. I brought them, though.” He points his arm, and you turn, eyes widening.

“He helped with directions,” Donghyuck explains, already shrugging off his shoes and letting himself into your apartment.

“What- why’s everyone here today?” You naturally move to the side as all eight of them slowly amble in, completely bewildered.

“Impromptu party. Jeno’s boss gave him some free pizza delivery vouchers,” Yeji explains, smiling sweetly at you, and despite the suddenness of it, you can’t quite say no - you do miss having them around, and you can probably catch up on your work over the weekend.

“Okay. Mark won’t be back till nine, though.” At your words, there seems to be a general sense of amusement rising from everyone else, which is only enough to confuse you further.

However, you’re grateful for their appearance. You don’t think you could last another movie night with Mark without doing something extremely, extremely stupid.

At eight, Mark reaches his front door, only for it to be opened before he can even reach for his keys.

And instead of you, there’s Jisung, who only waves. “Hi, hyung.”

“What are you doing here?” Mark asks, until he hears the sound of commotion inside - there’s music playing, and Donghyuck trying to explain something loudly before your laughter cuts through.

“Jeno bought all of us pizza. You should be hungry,” Jisung says, smiling, and Mark only follows the younger boy inside, greeted by the sight of everyone else scattered across the living room floor.

“Mark!” Jaemin shouts excitedly, and he realises the boy is already half-drunk as he motions to the multiple pizza boxes. “Take as much as you want. Can’t finish.”

And as Mark grabs the pizza and makes his way over to where you’re seated by the couch, you smile up at him in a way that makes it impossible for him to grin back. “You’re here,” you say softly, cheeks already slightly reddened by the alcohol.

He laughs slightly. “Are you drunk already?”

You shake your head. “I only drank a little.” You pinch your fingers together for emphasis.

“Okay. Go easy on it,” he says, and you pout slightly. “Got it.”

“Since Mark’s here already, we should all play a game,” Chenle suggests, and Mark looks up, eyes widening when he sees everyone nod. “Suddenly?”

“How about truth or dare?” Ryujin asks.

“No, that’s too boring. Wait, Mark, come here,” Donghyuck says from the opposite side of the room, pushing Jisung slightly to make space for him in the middle, but Mark shakes his head.

“I’m okay here.” Besides, he wants to make sure you don’t drink as much.

“Just come here. Yeji has something she needs to tell Y/N.” At that, Mark turns to the black-haired girl, a suspicious glance in his eyes.

“Oh yeah, totally,” she says, grinning back, and motions for Mark to move. “Girls only, Mark. I know you’re Y/N’s best friend, but some exceptions can’t be made.”

Everyone’s waiting, which means Mark eventually rises from where he’s standing. “Okay. Make sure she doesn’t drink too much, okay?” he asks, and she nods.

When Mark’s finally cross-legged on the floor, Donghyuck clasps his hands together, a grin on his face. “Let’s do seven minutes in heaven. Jeno, spin that bottle.”

Mark turns to his best friend, nudging him. “What are we, in high school?”

“We’re not, which is why I wanna play this. Also, everyone here at least knows each other. so it’s more fun.”

There’s silence in the room as the soju bottle spins in slow rounds, before it finally drifts to a stop - one that has Donghyuck giggling and Ryujin’s cheeks reddening.

“Ryujin and Yeji. First room on the right, now,” he instructs, and the two girls rise, disappearing down the hallway and already lost in their own conversation.

“Next one. I wanna spin this,” Chenle says, exchanging an odd, knowing sort of look with Hyuck, who only motions for him to go ahead.

Mark’s honestly only half-focused on the game, more worried about he’s going to clean up later and whether any of them will be staying over. Eventually, however, his gaze drifts to the floor, watching as the bottle comes to a perfect stop.

Facing you directly.

Yeji’s gone and you’re the only one sitting on the right side of the couch, which makes you the obvious choice.

The other side is a little more ambiguous, however. It’s between him and Hyuck, who looks a little too excited. “Well, so who’s going to go with me?” you ask, and everyone else seems to be unsure of what to say.

“I mean, I don’t mind,” Donghyuck says teasingly, winking at you in a way that makes Mark stiffen.

There’s no way Hyuck likes you, right? That all this was just some sort of grand, elaborated scheme to get closer to you-

You fell for her too, idiot, his mind immediately rattles off, and it’s enough for Mark to stand up, immediately clearing his throat. “I’ll go. The empty room left is mine anyways.”

He misses the way his best friend smiles triumphantly at Chenle, immediately moving closer to you as you stand up. “Seven minutes, right?” you ask, and Hyuck nods. “No more, no less.”

Mark’s not sure why he’s strangely nervous as he follows you into the room, considering he’s pretty sure that nothing will happen anyways. After all, the both of you practically live together, and he’s no stranger to spending time alone with you.

Though, in the wake of his new feelings, even simple interactions feel difficult.

And as you lie down on the side of his bed, legs dangling off the edge, Mark regrets his decision just a little. Until you lift your head up.

“Why are you standing there? Come here.” You pat the empty space next to you, and as if pulled by some mysterious force, he gravitates towards you, hesitantly sitting next to your knees and slowly lying down next to you.

“I wonder what Hyuck would say if he found us like this,” you say, and despite himself, Mark laughs. “We would get scolded.”

“He’d probably ask us to do something, at least.”

Mark’s cheeks redden as he wonders what exactly you mean by something, and he’s not sure if your straightforwardness is partly due to the alcohol. “Like what?”

“I don’t know. Kiss, probably.”

He sucks in a breath, turning to you. But your profile remains sideways, eyes fixed on the ceiling. And he’s not sure where he finds the words, but Mark’s voice is strained the next time he speaks, tight with desire and fear.

“Do you- do you want to?”

You turn to him, pretty irises deep enough for Mark to willingly, gladly drown in.

God, you’re gorgeous. He’s so painfully in love with you that it almost hurts to breathe, little pinpricks of affection stabbing at what space remaining in his heart that’s still left untaken by you.

“I wouldn’t mind, I think,” you murmur, blinking sleepily at him as you shuffle a little bit closer, until your head’s resting against his chest, and Mark wonders if you can hear his heartbeat going faster than it ever has.

You wouldn’t mind kissing him. It’s not a direct expression of want, but if you’re amenable to the idea, that’s already more than he could ever expect.

You’re so close, and you smell so good, like that vanilla and cinnamon shampoo that you always use, and if he just tilted your head a little higher - he would have everything that he’s dreaming of.

But you’re drunk, and he’s not entirely sober either, which means bad decisions are likely to be made. When Mark kisses you, he wants it to be when both of you are fully awake, so he can remember every single moment of it.

And the feeling of you resting against him, eyes closed and breathing even, isn’t so bad either - it’s sweet, providing him with the knowledge that you feel safe enough to be your most vulnerable around him, because Mark just wants to protect you and love you in all the ways that he can. If you’ll let him.

And that’s how Donghyuck finds him when he cracks open the bedroom door, Mark immediately bringing a finger to his lips to keep his volume down.

“Um, I’ll tell everyone to clean up and leave. You can stay with Y/N,” Hyuck murmurs, and Mark’s grateful for the sensibility that his best friend does have, after all.

It’s about twenty minutes later that he finally hears the front door swing shut, and the house finally falls into some much-needed silence.

“Y/N,” he whispers softly, hoping to wake you up without startling you. “Darling, you’ll be uncomfortable if you sleep like this.”

He’s not sure where the pet name slips out from, but it comes out surprisingly easily. And while Mark would be perfectly happy to stay in this position, it’s likely going to give you a poor neck tomorrow.

Thankfully, you seem to hear him, mumbling something incoherent as you slowly sit up, still drowsy as he leads you to the bed. You find the pillow quickly, and he breathes out a sigh of relief when you seem to sink back into your slumber.

“Good night, Y/N,” he mumbles tenderly, a hand brushing over your forehead.

And when he finally lies down on the other side, blanket thrown over the both of you, Mark wills sleep to find him quickly. There’s too much on his mind tonight.

At some point, however, you shift, turning your body to face him and making his breathing hitch.

You’re always so damn close.

And then you say something again under your breath, soft enough for Mark to have to lean closer until your lips are right by his ear.

“Y/N? Do you need something?” It’s obvious you’re still asleep, maybe stuck in a dream of sorts as you furrow your eyebrows.

When you speak next, however, it’s loud enough for Mark to hear every syllable.

“You don’t want to kiss me,” you breathe out, an expression of distress making its way onto your features. “Why not?” Your lips soften into a pout that makes his heart seize, and Mark’s eyes widen.

Are you talking about him? From earlier?

He’s frozen now, fingers ghosting over your waist as he wonders how to react.

Eventually, Mark allows himself to press a tender kiss to your forehead, smoothing out the slight furrow there as he brushes his thumb over your cheek.

The bed, even the entire room, suddenly feels a little too small, and a little too warm as Mark keeps looking at you, wondering exactly what this means for him, you, and your friendship.

If everything he’s ever wanted is a mistake, and whether you’d make it with him. Because he doesn’t think any mistake should feel this right.

When you wake up the next morning, you can’t exactly distinguish between what was part of your dream, and what was actually a hazy recollection.

And neither is Mark present to confirm your doubts. It’s like he’s disappeared off the face of the earth - well, probably just the campus.

Still, when you see an empty bed, the sheets on the side flat and crinkled, there’s a yearning in your heart that you can’t quite place. You swing your feet over the edge, your head still vaguely throbbing from the alcohol as you try to distinguish reality from your own eager imagination.

You like Mark. That much is easy enough to figure out, if the way you clung to him last night was any indication. You faintly remember him persuading you to go to bed, and tugging a sweater over your shirt.

And then you had turned over - heart racing in your chest as you voluntarily moved closer to him, seeking his warmth and relaxing when he didn’t pull away.

His bed smelled a lot like him, all fresh cotton and fabric softener. A familiar scent that you had grown used to over the years, from stealing his jackets to hugging him whenever he pulled you close, your head nestled into the crook of his shoulder.

You’re conflicted as you stare at yourself in the bathroom mirror, fingers curling into the material of the sweater as if it’ll make up for the owner’s absence.

Maybe he liked you. Maybe he didn’t. You would get some answers once he came back, at least.

Unfortunately, you’re in the middle of brushing your teeth when you hear the front door unlock, and you suppose the universe has other plans for you as you shuffle out into the living room.

And as if you still needed the reminder, your pulse speeds up at the sight of Mark in his hoodie and black glasses, plates already in his hands as he places them on the table. “Hey, um, I got breakfast. Figured you’d be hungry,” he explains.

You’re just staring at him, lingering in the hallway long enough for Mark to scratch the back of his head awkwardly. “Hey, if you don’t feel like eating-”

“I do.” It comes out panicked as you rush over, taking the cutlery from him and the first pastry you see. “Thanks, Mark.”

“No problem,” he says, still smiling at you as you take your first bite, occasionally meeting his eyes before your gaze darts away again.

God, this is awkward. You haven’t been this awkward with him since- well, ever. Even eighteen-year-old you had no problem making conversation with him, but now you’re completely silent as the both of you share a meal.

You’re in the middle of counting the number of cross-stitches in the tablecloth when he finally speaks.

“How’s your head feeling?”

“It’s okay.”

“Donghyuck and the others left pretty early yesterday.”

“Yeah.”

“They cleaned up, though.”

“That’s good.”

You can almost sense the frustration radiating off Mark at your replies, but you’re not sure what else to say to him.

Or more that you’re scared of what will come out if you do let yourself speak.

“Y/N,” he murmurs, noticeably more serious now, and you gulp.

“Mark.”

“Can we talk about yesterday?” he asks, gently, and you lift your head sharply, fork frozen in midair.

“What- what happened yesterday?”

“You don’t remember?”

“I-” you cut yourself off halfway, cheeks turning scarlet as you duck your head down to look at your own lap.

It’s as much of a guilty admission that he needs, even as you attempt to get yourself out of the situation by standing up and pushing your chair behind you. “I’m done with my breakfast. I’ll go get ready.”

“You’re going out?”

“I told Ryujin that I would meet her for lunch,” you lie, though you wince the moment it leaves your mouth.

For one, it’s ten in the morning, and Ryujin’s probably just as hungover as you.

You barely put your plate down in the sink before you hear Mark get up as well, and you turn your head away, cursing silently under your breath. It’s times like this when you wish your apartment was bigger, that Mark couldn’t be capable of finding you in less than two minutes.

He doesn’t say anything, almost hovering as he clears his plate away too, and places the rest of the pastries in the fridge.

You can’t help but notice that they’re all your favourites, the kind of snacks that you always tell him you crave but never have conveniently at home.

The moment you’re done washing the dishes, however, you quickly dry your hands, making a beeline out of the kitchen area. If you just manage to get to your room, you’ll at least be able to avoid him for a while longer.

And for a few moments, you think that Mark will let you go and leave the events of last night aside for now.

In fact, you almost make it past him and the kitchen island, before he grabs onto your wrist and yanks you back.

“What-” You tilt your head up sharply in shock, freezing when you realize exactly how close the both of you are. The tip of his nose is barely centimetres away from yours, and your lack of balance has you almost leaning fully into him, the weight of your body pressed up against his.

You’re still reeling from it as you blink up at him, finding a way to get your senses back around you, even as your brain fills with empty thoughts about how he looks good up close like this, or how his lashes frame his features perfectly.

It’s a dangerous situation. One that you need to get out of immediately.

“Mark-” you start, his name coming out breathy and stilted, but the boy remains silent, lips set into a firm line as he continues looking at you, or past you, as if he's thinking of something else entirely. “Let me go?”

You move your wrist for emphasis, but in response, his grip only tightens.

“No,” he murmurs, in a way that makes butterflies flutter in your stomach.

“But-”

You’re cut off soon enough when he moves even closer, the distance between the both of you disappearing.

Because instead of releasing your hand, Mark only wraps his other arm around your waist to yank you closer before he plants his lips firmly on yours.

And then he’s kissing you.

Mark Lee, your best friend and roommate of four years, is kissing you in your shared apartment at ten in the morning, and you can’t help but feel like this is how it’s always meant to have been.

And as you feel yourself melting into his hold, that same scent of fresh cotton enveloping you, he pulls away. Kissing shouldn’t feel this good, but with him, you think the seconds could easily elapse into hours.

You’re almost tempted to pull him by the collar back to you, but something in his eyes curbs that impulse of yours.

His hand is still resting on your waist, ghosting over the patch of bare skin between your sweatpants and top in a way that makes you shiver.

“You asked me why I didn’t want to kiss you yesterday,” he breathes out. “Does this make up for it?”

So that wasn’t a dream, at least.

You scramble to find a way to reply, still a little too distracted by the way his lips are the perfect shade of pink, the phantom feeling of them quickly fading from your memory. “I- I think so.”

He smiles at that. “You think?”

“I could do with a refresher.” The sudden confidence that enters your voice is just as surprising to you as it is to Mark himself, but he recovers faster. The hand that was previously around your wrist snakes its way up to your chin, tilting your face upwards. “Yeah?”

You nod, deciding that you’re already too far gone- you might as well get something out of it.

Like the feeling of Mark’s lips against yours when he kisses you again, smiling against you in a way that makes your heart expand in the most delightful way.

When he nips at your bottom lip playfully, you let out a soft giggle, ducking your head away from his as he moves towards your cheek, and then your neck, leaving a trail of feather-soft kisses in his wake.

“That feels nice,” you sigh out, feeling him smirk against where he’s nestled at the juncture of your shoulder and neck. “Just nice?”

“Very nice. Happy now?” You tap his shoulders to get him to raise his head, Mark’s hands instinctively finding your waist.

He hums. “I suppose. What does this make us?”

And as much as he tries to pass it off nonchalantly, you hear the way his voice tapers off into doubt.

That he’s had the same fear as you for a while now, but also the exact same dream.

“Do you like me?” you ask, and Mark swipes his tongue over his lips, chuckling softly. “I thought that much was obvious.”

“Well, then I guess it’s a good thing that I like you too.” You fiddle with the drawstrings of his hoodie as Mark’s eyes widen. To his credit, he looks surprised, but it only makes you laugh. “You seriously think I would kiss you if I didn’t like you?”

“Well, I wasn’t sure-” his words halt when you tiptoe to press a kiss on his cheek.

“I like you, Mark Lee. Even if you can’t cook eggs and always mess up my laundry. And I know you’re already my best friend and roommate, but will you be willing to take up another title now?”

“What title?’ he asks, blinking confusedly at you, and you only grin. “My boyfriend,” you whisper into his ear, pulling back to see that familiar shade of red making its way onto his cheeks.

Eventually, he nods. “Yeah. Okay. I can do that.”

But you only frown. “You took so long to reply. I’m starting to think you don’t want it anymore.”

Mark only rolls his eyes, arms tightening their hug around your waist.

“Too bad. There’s no getting rid of me now.”

Funnily enough, the hardest part of being in a relationship with Mark was figuring out how to tell everyone else without being made the subject of their endless teasing for the next foreseeable few months.

Especially Donghyuck. Both you and Mark agreed that the chestnut-haired boy would be the last to find out.

Everything else was the same. The both of you always ate together, Mark often picking you up after lessons with a take-out bag already in his hands.

Except that he was now yours to kiss and hold, which was a new privilege you gladly took advantage of, especially on occasions like this.

“I say we let them find out on their own. It’s worse if we tell them directly, like it’s some sort of big announcement,” you say, fingers absentmindedly carding their way through Mark’s hair as he hugs you close to him. You’re leaning against the couch, legs thrown over his as you rest on his lap sideways.

He only raises a bemused eyebrow. “You don’t think our relationship is a big thing?”

“We both know that’s not what I mean,” you mutter, swatting his shoulder. “I just think they’ve known us as best friends for so long, that it’ll be weird to just suddenly drop this out of nowhere.”

“I get it. We can tell them whenever you want.”

The current position you’re in is more than comfortable, and you find yourself growing drowsy as he peppers kisses along your cheek and your shoulder.

“But, Y/N-” he starts, and despite your sudden onset of drowsiness, you make a little noise of assent. it’s enough for Mark to hug you tighter to him, before continuing.

“You know you’re still my best friend no matter what, right? This-” he gestures to the both of you, smiling gently, “doesn’t change anything.”

His words hit you harder than you want to let on, and you try not to make your emotions too plain your face as you lean against his shoulder, feeling his heart beat gently against his chest.

However, your words still come out slightly choked. “Yeah, I know.”

“I’m quite lucky, don’t you think? A best friend and a girlfriend in the same person.”

“Donghyuck won’t be happy to hear that,” you mutter, and you feel the vibrations of Mark’s chest as he laughs, a loud one that you know is genuine. The very sound itself is enough to make you smile.

“Thank God he’s not here, then.”

“I am, actually.”

The voice that materializes from the hallway is enough to make you jump and almost fall off Mark’s lap, right as he catches you. You scramble to get off his lap, hands moving to your lap as Donghyuck walks into the living room, arms crossed.

“How the fuck did you get in?” you ask, and Donghyuck lifts his hand up, a glint of metal twirled in his fingers. “Spare key. Mark showed me once when he was drunk off his ass.”

“And you didn’t knock?”

“I did. Many times, actually. You two lovebirds just tuned it all out. Besides, what’s the worst that could happen?”

“For one, this is a private apartment.”

“I mean, if the both of you were having sex, I’d probably hear it first and show myself out,” he shoots back nonchalantly, and your eyes widen at the same time that Mark lets out an embarrassed cough, which only makes Donghyuck let out a surprised laugh.

“Haven’t gotten there yet, huh?” He’s smirking now, looking at the both of you beneath his eyelashes in a way that makes you want to throttle him.

“Let’s- let’s talk about something else,” you mutter, and Donghyuck shrugs. “Sure. I came here to tell you guys that we’ve settled everything for the winter break trip. We leave in four days, once semester ends.”

“You came all the way here just for that?” you ask suspiciously, and the boy smiles as if he’s been caught.

“Um, I haven’t had lunch. Also, I don’t have any beach shorts, and Mark has a few he can lend.”

You nod, before narrowing your eyes. “You’re not going to tell the rest, right?”

“Not yet. But only because I want to see their reactions when I do,” Donghyuck replies, and you huff under your breath. It’s good enough for now.

“Then sit down. And help me prep the ingredients for lunch.” At your words, Donghyuck immediately straightens into a mock salute. “Got it.”

The gesture makes you laugh slightly as you go to the fridge, setting out everything on the counter. But Donghyuck seems to be deep in thought, almost orbiting around you.

After a while, however, he eventually opens his mouth, unable to contain his curiosity any longer.

“…So you guys really haven’t fucked?”

“Shut it, Donghyuck.”

“I didn’t even mean to kiss him!” Yeji shouts, sitting up in her chair to defend herself. “The alcohol made him seem a lot more good-looking than he actually was.”

Karina only laughs behind her cup. “You just have shit taste in men.”

“Which is why I have a girlfriend now,” she says, grinning widely as she grabs Ryujin’s hand. The latter only rolls her eyes.

The eleven of you are gathered around a campfire, blankets bundled over your laps as you take turns dangling marshmallows over the fire. You can’t even remember whose idea it was to come down to the coast to escape winter for a few weeks, but as the sea breeze blows through your hair, you’re grateful for it.

“This is nice,” Chenle says, resting his feet on a stool as he leans back, sunglasses over his eyes.

“Says the one who refused to leave the house at first,” Donghyuck snides, earning an elbow in the side.

“Can the both of you just stop bickering for one second?” Jaemin says from across the circle, exasperated. “Let’s talk about something else.”

“Well, if you want to hear about more idiots that Yeji has kissed while drunk-” Karina’s offer is cut off by the aforementioned girl kicking her in the shin, cheeks bright with mortification.

“I’m one of those idiots, unfortunately,” Ryujin shoots back, earning huffs of amusement from everyone as she defends her girlfriend.

“Speaking of that…” Karina trails off, gaze drifting to you and Mark in a way that makes you shift nervously, eyes darting away from hers as you laugh nervously. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

She leans back, a sly glint in her eyes as she scrutinizes every minute shift of your features. “You were the second couple that night to go in. Did anything happen?”

Everyone else is paying attention now, even as they try to hide it.

Your eyes go to Donghyuck for a second, who only has a shit-eating grin on his face. From his expression, you can tell the man is practically jumping out of his seat at the prospect of being the one to reveal your newly-formed relationship with Mark.

Which means you have to beat him first.

“Yeah. We’re dating now,” you mutter, hiding your grin with a sip of your hot chocolate as the entire group turns silent. Even Mark looks at you, surprised, but his face quickly transforms into one of smug happiness as he grabs your hand, fingers interlacing with yours. “We are,” he confirms, and Karina’s eyes widen beyond what you thought possible.

“Whoa. Whoa. Hold on- when did this happen?”

“The morning after,” you supplicate, and she rests her forehead on her hands as she blinks.

“Good to know the both of you had it in you,” Chenle says, smiling at you in a way that’s equal parts teasing and sweet. “By the way, you should probably give credit to Hyuck. He was the first to notice, you know.”

“Really?”

“Wasn’t difficult when the both of you were staring at each other like lovestruck idiots,” he says, and you roll your eyes. You suppose you owe the man a word of thanks, eventually. Just not right now.

“I’m happy for you guys.” Jaemin, the sweetest of your group, smiles widely at the both of you, and Mark pats him on the back in a sign of affection. “Really. It was a long time coming.”

“I guess it was, huh?” Mark says, turning towards you with a contemplative sort of joy on his features. Despite the dim lighting, it’s almost as if there’s stars in his eyes as he looks at you, hand still tightly holding on to yours.

“God, couples make me sick,” Donghyuck mutters, earning a glare from you and Yeji. “You can leave, then,” you shoot back, pressing a kiss to Mark’s cheek in a sign of defiance.

“You bet I will-”

“Speaking of that,” Jaemin, always the mediator, cuts Donghyuck off. “It’s late. We should probably head back to the cabins.”

“Sounds good to me,” Karina says, standing up and folding her blanket over her chair. “God, it’s cold.”

“You cold?” Mark asks, and you shake your head, only zipping up your jacket as all of you make the slow trek back to your cabins at the end of the beach. Thanks to the off-season, you and Mark are sharing one, while Yeji, Ryujin and Karina take the larger house, with the other villas split between the six guys.

Eventually, you reach the doorstep of your cabin, waving farewell to the rest as they shrug off their shoes and unlock the doors. “Goodnight!” Yeji shouts, and you grin widely as you wave at her, the wind whipping your hair around your face.

Thankfully, the inside of the cabin offers a respite from the cold, and you find yourself quickly moving towards the woollen blanket on the couch. “Tired?” Mark asks, leaning against the armrest to face you directly, and you shake your head, eyes still bright. “Not at all. I think being on holiday keeps me awake.”

“Wanna watch a movie, then?” he asks, and you nod eagerly, stretching your arms out to pull him towards you.

“Come here,” you urge, making him stretch out his legs on the couch before you lie against him, legs tangled with his and back comfortably resting against his chest.

“Someone’s clingy today,” he points out, bemused.

“I haven’t gotten to be with you alone since we left for the trip yesterday. Let a girl have what she wants.”

At your words, he nods, lips curving up as his arms settle around your waist, a kiss pressed to your hairline. “I can do that for my girl.”

“My girl?” you ask, and he nods. “You’ve always been my girl. Even if you didn’t know it then.”

“I guess I like it. You can keep calling me that,” you reply, and he nips at your ear. “You looked good tonight, by the way,” you tell him, turning around momentarily to face him.

He’s wearing a fleece jacket over one of his graphic tees, somehow still choosing to wear ripped jeans despite the cold weather.

“I would say that back to you, but I’m guessing you already know,” he says, and you duck your head down, giggling softly.

“I suppose you also know that I love you. In case that wasn’t obvious enough,” he adds after a while, as if not quite sure what you’ll make of it. But you’re quick to nod.

“I love you too, Mark Lee. You’re everything to me.”

You’ve never meant anything more, and he seems to be a little starstruck as he looks at you, an utter look of adoration in his eyes. “How did I get so damn lucky?” he asks softly, and it’s enough to knock the breath out of your chest as your heart carves out even more space for him.

It’s only when Mark tilts your chin up that you go silent, eyes widening slightly. He’s staring directly at you, until he isn’t.

Because his gaze drops down to your lips, his thumb coming up to brush the corner in a way that makes you freeze.

“Can I kiss you?” he murmurs, and the question is so sweet, so earnest, that it makes you smile.

“You never have to ask,” you reply, and your boyfriend doesn’t hesitate before he’s pulling you mouth towards his and closing whatever little distance there is left.

Kissing Mark feels like sinking into a soft pillow after a long day, something that’s all too easy for you to melt into as you thread your fingers through the black strands at the nape of his neck. It’s surprisingly easy to do, the both of you moving naturally as if you’ve been doing this forever.

And when you find your kisses travelling down towards his neck, you take note of each soft exhale that he lets out, grip occasionally tightening around your waist.

Your hands are travelling too, going past his neck to his arms, and then ghosting down his sides, before you eventually find yourself preferring to fidget with the torn threads and rips in his jeans, occasionally tracing little shapes over the exposed skin of his thigh.

“You- you really should stop doing that,” he forces out after a while, the tension in his voice making you smile.

“Are you sure?” you ask, looking up for a second to take in the conflict evident in his features. “N-no. But it feels good.”

His tone is almost whiny, the little note of desperation in it making pleasurable heat curl in your stomach. “That was the goal, I think,” you shoot back sarcastically, and he laughs darkly, toying with the zipper at the side of your skirt.

You see the change as it happens, his eyes dimming just imperceptibly as something in it changes, a newfound determination in him as he presses one last bruising kiss to your lips.

“Don’t get snarky with me now. We still have the entire night, you know,” he reminds, and you find yourself quickly swelling with an unfamiliar sort of excitement, tinted with an almost delectable sort of fear as he pulls you even closer, fingertip tracing down the side of your face.

“And we have this entire place to ourselves, so what are you planning?” you ask, arching an eyebrow curiously, which causes Mark to smile teasingly. This side of him is so unfamiliar to you, and yet you love every moment of it as your pulse races, blood and adrenaline rushing through your veins in equal measure.

“You’ll find out soon enough, baby.”

This time, when he guides your mouth to his, you gladly let him steal your oxygen.

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