He can’t really argue against that, so he laughs it off.

“On rare occasions, I even get to sleep,” Chan says, and you chuckle.

For a while you joke about your utterly indecent sleep schedule.

“What about my birthday?” you suddenly ask.

“What about it?”

“Can you show me then? Your songs?”

He considers it. “That only gives me 23 days...”

“Sounds like plenty.”

“I don’t know...” he lets out, shaking his head.

“Just one, then. One song.”

He hesitates.

“Come on Chan,” you insist, honeying your voice. “I’m your best friend; you can at least do this for me.”

“Trying to make me feel bad, are you?”

You grin. “Guilty. Still, I do really want to hear your stuff. I’m 100% convinced it will be amazing.”

“Saying that doesn’t make me less nervous, you know.”

“Ah... Well, uh, I’m sure you’re working hard and that you’ll grow into a great artist.”

“Pfft”, he utters, but you notice his cheeks turning pink.

You take that opportunity to jump in an attempt to grab his notebook, but he’s faster than you, and you end up more or less falling on top of him.

“F-fine!” he exclaims, as het firmly pushes you up by the shoulders. “Your birthday is fine!”

You precipitately move away, then clear your throat.

“You can’t back out, you know.”

“I know.”

A grin.

“Okay.”

23 days later

“Y/N...”

“No.”

“You’re being dumb.”

“It’s my birthday, I can be dumb if I want.”

He sighs.

“Come on...”

You cross your arms.

“I bought you that album you wanted, isn’t that enough?”

“I wanted to hear your music,” you mumble.

“I can’t believe you got a year older...”

“...you’re not helping your case.”

“Okay, fine!” he says. “Hear me out: I’ll give you three wishes. Whatever you want, except things related to my music. Can be applied anyhow, anytime.”

You slowly turn to fully face him.

“Anything I want?”

He offers a grin. “Anything.”

“...alright,” you mumble.

“So, you forgive me?”

“Sure.”

A bright smile.

“Happy birthday, Y/N.”

2 weeks later | First Wish

“Are you serious?” Chan asks. “Pizza?”

“I’m starving.”

“You could ask for anything...”

“Yeah, but I won’t ask for a full four-course meal... We’re both broke. Pizza is fine.”

“Y/N, what even are your priorities?”

“I’m pretty sure food is a great priority.”

You hand him the plate.

“True,” he admits.

A pause.

“Do you at least want fries or...”

4 months later | Second Wish

“-but I like this hoodie.”

“Well, me too,” you reply.

“Why can’t I just buy you a new one?”

“I like that one.”

“I can buy you the same model, maybe a smaller size.”

“Oversized is comfy.”

He pouts.

“You said anything I want” you remind him with a smirk.

“Yeah, but...”

He doesn’t find a proper argument.

“Why though?” he asks.

“I just like it.”

“Do you at least want me to wash it?”

“No!”

Chan stares at you.

You feel your face heating up.

“I- I mean,” you begin. “It’s just too much trouble.”

He frowns. “Not really, I just need to-”

“I’m cold now.”

“...you’re wearing a huge sweater, and we’re indoors.”

“I... I get cold easily.”

He narrows his eyes. “That’s not true.”

“Chan. Just- Just give me the hoodie.”

He sighs and pulls it over his head.

“Happy?” he inquires, handing it to you.

You give him a satisfied smile. “Happy.”

1 year later | Third Wish

“So, you’re leaving tomorrow.”

Chan can’t hide his excitement. “Tomorrow.”

“It’ll be harder to see you.”

“We can text.”

“It’s not the same.”

A shadow passes over his face. “I’ll visit when I can.”

“Yeah...”

“Y/N, don’t be like this. Be happy for me.”

You force a smile. “I am.”

“You don’t seem like it.”

Your eyes settle on the floor.

“I’m so, so proud of you,” you say quietly. “Really.”

A silence.

“I’ll miss you,” Chan lets out.

You chew on the inside of your cheek, hesitating.

“Chan,” you almost murmur.

“Hm?”

“About my last wish...”

“Oh,” he lets out. “It’s been a while.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, what is it?”

The words are stuck in your throat.

“Y/N?”

“I...”

“Don’t worry,” he says softly, taking a step closer to you. “I’ll say yes no matter what. That’s the deal, isn’t it?”

You can’t tell if that’s a good thing anymore.

You take a deep breath.

“Chan,” you begin again. “C-can you kiss me?”

A long pause. 

You feel a pressure behind your eyes, a tightness in your chest. 

“I..” he says.

You can’t bare to repeat yourself.

“You don’t have to if- I just- You’re leaving and... I-”

You feel a tear break out, and your voice becomes even more unstable.

“I miss you already, I never got to- I never...”

“Hey,” Chan says gently. “Y/N, hey, look at me.”

You don’t. 

“I always thought you’d be my first kiss,” you hear yourself say.

“Y/N...”

You shake your head. “Oh, my god, I’m just dumping this on you, I-”

“It’s okay,” Chan interrupts.

“This so dumb, I’m sorry-”

“It’s okay,” he repeats with a firmer voice.

You feel a hand on your chin.

“I’m the one who’s sorry,” Chan whispers.

He manages to find your eyes. 

“Y/N... I’ve known you forever.”

He lets out a soft chuckle.

“I was planning to be your first kiss.”

“...wh-”

“I’m sorry it took so long.”

And he kisses you.

“Emmenez-moi au bout de la Terre… Emmenez-moi au pays des merveilles,” Marks sings softly, watching the city’s nightscape through the car’s window.

“Is that French?”

Mark glances back, meeting Donghyuck’s round eyes.

“Yup,” he replies. “It’s a song.”

There’s a sense of wonder on the younger’s face. “It sounds nice,” he declares. “I like it.”

Mark blinks. “You do?”

“Yeah,” Donghyuck says with a shrug. “Can you sing for me?”

“What?” he asks, lips curving a dumbfounded smile.

Donghyuck brings a hand to his heart.

“Serenade me, hyung,” he demands solemnly.

“Shut up,” Mark fires back, looking away, and he can feel his ears turning bright red.

A smile blossoms on the younger’s face. “For real. I like your singing voice.”

Marks studies him for a second. “Okay,” he lets out.

And he sings for Donghyuck.

From then on, it kinda becomes their thing. At random moments, for no apparent reason, Donghyuck will request a song, and Mark will find himself obliging. Then, for 3 or 4 minutes, Donghyuck will give him his undivided attention, and Mark will have to pretend that it doesn’t make him so nervous he might faint. Somehow (perhaps because it’s his literal job to perform), that never happens, but he still comes out of those interactions shaken up, and it feels unfair to him that Donghyuck doesn’t have to experience the same gripping anxiety.

The members don’t mind their little game. Sometimes, they even drop in to listen, and their presence breaks the intimacy of the endeavour. Mark finds that it’s both a relief and a bother. He’s is the only one amongst them who speaks French, but Donghyuck likes to brag that he can tell what Mark is saying by just looking at him.

“You’re an open book to me,” he lilts, grinning. “Regardless of the language.”

And that’s true, for the most part. Generally speaking, Mark isn’t one to hide his emotions, and Donghyuck has been around him for a long time. Still, Donghyuck doesn’t know everything.

He doesn’t know, for example, that when he smiles, Mark feels like the world finally makes sense. That when their skin brush, there’s a warmth that spreads from Mark’s core to the tip of his toes. Or that when he isn’t around, Mark can’t help but see him in everything.

In retrospect, there’s a lot Donghyuck doesn’t know.

The first time he does it, it’s an accident. Hyuck wants a song, and the only one his mind supplies is an old love song he hasn’t heard in years.

“On dit que le destin se moque bien de nous, qu’il ne nous donne rien et qu’il nous promet tout,” he sings, staring at his feet. “Paraît que le bonheur est à portée de main, alors on tend la main et on se retrouve fou.”

Donghyuck must realize that Mark is avoiding his gaze; being his usual bratty self, he lies his head on Mark’s lap and forces their eyes to meet.

“The hell?” Mark exclaims, and Donghyuck clicks his tongue with an annoyed expression before pressing the older to go on with a hand movement.

Mark tries to push him away, but the kid is persistent, and in the end, Mark doesn’t have the heart to use all his force.

“Continue!” Donghyuck whines.

An exaggerated sigh.

“Pourtant quelqu’un m’a que tu m’aimais encore,” Mark sings with reluctance. “C’est quelqu’un qui m’a dit que tu m’aimais encore…”

As the words escape his lips,

As he melts into Donghyuck eyes,

“Serait-ce possible alors?”

He realizes that he means what he’s saying.

“Serait-ce possible alors?”

As the verses spill out,

He’s talking to Donghyuck,

He’s serenading Donghyuck.

And every time after that,

Every time Donghyuck asks him to sing,

He chooses a love song.

“Hyuck did really well on that on that photoshoot,” Mark comments.

“You keep babbling about him,” Johnny sighs, shaking his head.

“Me?” he replies, taken aback.

“I know you think he’s great,” Johnny continues. “That he’s cute and funny and charismatic and blah blah blah… But you never say it to his face.”

Mark frowns. “Well, I…”

Johnny glares at him with irritation and a lingering fondness. “You should be more sincere.”

When Mark steps into his room, he finds a body curled up in the middle of his mattress.

“Jeez,” he mutters, shaking Donghyuck by the shoulder. “Go back to your own bed.”

“No,” the younger replies, voice muffled by the pillow.

“Dude, I’m tired…” Mark says, dropping by a very immobile Donghyuck.

“Me too.”

Marks rubs his temples; it’s not like it’s the first time something like this happens, and he knows that Donghyuck always wins.

“Move,” Mark instructs, pushing himself onto the bed.

Donghyuck groans but complies, and as soon as Mark is fully under the blanket, he wraps his legs around him.

“Hyuck,” Mark scolds, doing his best to keep a steady voice. “It’s too hot, stop.”

“Sing me to sleep,” Donghyuck replies groggily.

“Are you serious?”

“Mhm.”

“I’m exhausted.”

“Please.”

A short silence.

“What song?” Mark hears himself ask.

“Anything soothing.”

Mark considers the request.

“Moi je n’étais rien et voilà qu’aujourd’hui,” he begins, almost in a whisper. “Je suis le gardien du sommeil de ses nuits...”

“Go on,” Hyuck urges, squeezing his body a bit tighter.

“Je l’aime à mourir.”

He takes a deep breath, and the air smells of Donghyuck’s shampoo.

“Vous pourrez détruire tout ce qui vous plaira.”

Donghyuck hums along, and the vibrations send a shiver to Mark’s back.

“Il n’a qu’à ouvrir l’espace de ses bras pour tout reconstruire…”

The younger nuzzles against his side.

“Tout reconstruire,” he murmurs. “Je l’aime à mourir.”

As the song nears its end, Donghyuck’s breathing evens, and Mark thinks about running away (to the kitchen, to the street, to anywhere but here), but a minute passes, then ten, thirty.

Mark is still there.

He stays.

He always does.

Every now and then, Mark allows himself to confess a thing or two under the protection of their language barrier.

“Criss que t’es beau,” he mumbles.

Donghyuck frowns. “Was that an insult?”

“Uh…” Mark utters. “No.”

The other stares. “Right…”

Eventually, he starts doing it more often, and it always feels like a huge weight off his shoulders.

“Ce serait le fun, que tu m’aimes aussi,” he whispers as Donghyuck falls asleep against him for the third time that week. “Qu’on soit ensemble. Que j’puisse dire que t’es à moi.”

It’s all fun and games until one morning, when his body is functioning on 3 hours of sleep and his trilingual brain fucks up. Donghyuck is making tea, and despite his bed head, he looks absolutely lovely.

“I’d kiss you,” Mark says under his breath.

There’s a pause, and as Donghyuck eyes fill with confusion, Mark realizes his terrible mistake.

“What?” the younger lets out.

“What?” Mark echoes, and he considers yeeting out the window.

“What did you just say?”

“That I… miss… you.”

Hyuck doesn’t seem any less puzzled. “I’m right here though?”

“Yes,” Mark agrees slowly. “But we haven’t had much time to properly hang out recently.”

A pause.

“That’s true,” Donghyuck concedes, and he turns back to the tea. “Do you wanna go see a movie this weekend?”

“That’d be cool,” Mark declares, trying to breathe normally.

Donghyuck looks up again and smiles,

And there go Mark’s efforts.

After that unfortunate event, Mark calms down with his impromptu love confessions. If Donghyuck asks for him to sing, he’ll only agree if he can think of a song that has nothing to do with romance.

They’re walking back from the convenience store when Donghyuck requests something new. Mark protests, Donghyuck insists, and Mark would punch the boy if he wasn’t so damn cute. After a his mind runs around for a minute, he somehow ends up settling for the Canadian anthem.

He sings the beginning quietly, and Donghyuck is skipping besides him, and god, can he not?

“...car ton bras sait porter l’épée, il sait porter la croix. Ton histoire est une épopée des plus brillants exploits.”

A deep inspiration.

“God keep our land, glorious and free, Ô Canada we stand on guard for thee, Ô Canada we stand on guard for thee!”

There’s a pause.

“That was English,” Donghyuck notes.

“Yeah...” Mark confirms, running a hand through his hair. “I only know the bilingual version, sorry.”

Donghyuck pouts. “It’s not that I’m ungrateful or anything…” he says, and Mark snickers. “But why the hell would you pick your national anthem?”

“It’s the first thing that came to my mind,” Mark lies.

“That’s so random.”

Mark mumbles something about running out of ideas.

“Can’t you go back the to the old ones?” Hyuck wonders. “I feel like I haven’t heard them in a while.”

“Oh, uh…” Mark says. “They’re a bit too cheesy.”

“As far as I’m concerned, they’re just pretty,” Donghyuck retorts with a laugh. “Besides, they sound much more romantic.”

Mark’s heart skips a beat.

“Romantic?” he parrots, in a daze.

Donghyuck offers a wide grin. “French is the language of love, isn’t it?”

“R-right.”

“Plus, you always get super intense when you sing in French,” he says. “You’re super into it. It’s almost the same level as when we’re in the recording studio.”

A nervous chuckle escapes Mark’s lips.

“I guess it’s because it’s your first language.”

“Yup,” Mark agrees, vigorously nodding. “That’s why. Obviously.”

Donghyuck sends a wink his way.

“I know you well,” he says.

Mark can't do anything but smile.

A/N: Est-ce que j’ai écris ça essentiellement pour faire sacrer Mark? Pas mal, ouais. No regrets hahahah

ps: Translations to the parts in French here!

A/N: This fic is set in a boarding school AU.

10:48

perfect_marks: Still coming over?

jen00: On my way

perfect_marks: Do u have allergies medicine?

jen00: Why?

perfect_marks: Cat

jen00: What? jen00: At your dorm?

perfect_marks: Ya

jen00: Since when?

perfect_marks: Yesterday night

jen00: How did that happen?

perfect_marks: Long story perfect_marks: But do u have the medicine?

jen00: Yeah, in some pocket in my backpack jen00: How do you suddenly have a cat??

10:53

jen00: ???

10:55 jen00: Mark?

perfect_marks: Too lazy to type

1 missed call

perfect_marks: In the bus, too loud

jen00: Pfff jen00: Tell me when I get there

perfect_marks: Ya dw

jen00: Do you have pics of the cat though

perfect_marks: Nope

jen00:  :(

10:57

jen00: Why tf do you have a cat? fullxsun: he was hiding in a bush in front of the dorm building fullxsun: i’ve named him Yongie fullxsun: he’s a cute bastard and i would die for him

jen00: As much as I sympathize with that, Mark hates cats jen00: How did you convince him?

fullxsun: hate is a big word fullxsun: he’s lowkey scared of them

jen00: What

fullxsun: the anecdote involves a 5 year old mark, a kitten and an inflatable swimming pool

jen00: Will be all ears for that story later, but begin by telling me how you guys ended up adopting the cat fullxsun: i wanted him and mark didn’t fullxsun: but as love is a series of compromises fullxsun: we’re keeping the cat

jen00: Just like that?

fullxsun: are you doubting my infinite charms?

jen00: No, actually jen00: Which somehow makes it worse

fullxsun: ♡

jen00: Anyways jen00: Do you have pics?

fullxsun: hmmmmm abt 5498 of them

jen00: Shoot

fullxsun: hell yes

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