Archive of Our Own ^beta

The doubt began to creep in on an otherwise ordinary Monday evening.

It started with a casual, offhand comment from his friends—seemingly harmless and innocuous on the surface, nothing that should have rattled Donghyuck’s confidence as much as it did. Yet, what truly unsettled him the most wasn’t their friend’s assumptions themselves but Mark’s reaction. The surprise on Mark’s face was so genuine and unguarded, that Donghyuck couldn’t help but pause. Why was it so unusual for Mark to hear those words?

They had been wandering around town after an all-day shopping spree that Jaemin had practically dragged them into. Bags of clothes and knickknacks swayed in their hands while the debate over where to stop for dinner had been ongoing for nearly ten minutes, their voices overlapping in a playful chaos that only their group could manage. The air was alive with friendly jabs, exaggerated whining, and Jaemin’s dramatic complaints as he defended his restaurant suggestion.

The atmosphere was exactly what Donghyuck had come to expect when they were all together—anything but peaceful. However, he wouldn’t have it any other way. A soft grin played on his lips as he watched his friends bicker, their voices comforting him in the background of a brisk autumn evening. Fatigue, though, was catching up with him. His steps had grown slower, his usually sharp retorts replaced with a content silence. Most of his energy focused on the simple act of reaching out to Mark, their fingers intertwining effortlessly. He held on, letting Mark lead the way and nodding blindly in agreement to whatever place the older suggested. 

When the debate finally reached a conclusion—a unanimous decision that felt like a small miracle—an unusual lull settled over the group. In that rare quiet moment, Donghyuck sidled closer to Mark, wrapping himself around the older’s arm with an unspoken yet familiar ease. The warmth of Mark’s body seeped through his layers, soothing the chill that had begun creeping in with the crisp autumn air. Donghyuck sighed contentedly, pressing even closer as if Mark’s presence alone could ward off the evening cold.

He leaned his head on Mark’s shoulder, letting the soft fabric of his sweater brush against his cheek. Mark's faint, familiar scent enveloped him, soothing him even further as his eyes grew heavier, threatening to close despite the fact that he was still walking. “This is the sweater you wore on our first date all those years ago,” Donghyuck murmured absentmindedly, his voice tinged with affection.

The thought had been with him all day, ever since Mark had finally joined them earlier in the afternoon. Donghyuck had noticed it immediately—how could he not? The cream-coloured sweater was one of his favourites. Its softness highlighted Mark’s warmth, even more when, like then and coincidentally now, it was paired with his freshly dyed blond hair, making him look effortlessly adorable.

Mark rarely wore it, reserving it for occasions he deemed “special”—he always said it was too nice for day-to-day wear. Donghyuck, fond of it as he was of anything involving Mark, couldn’t help but feel a surge of happiness every time he saw it hanging in Mark’s closet. It wasn’t just a nice piece of clothing—it was the visual representation of memories he was incredibly attached to, of moments he never wanted to forget and, if he had it his way, would never have a reason to.

Unfortunately, the quiet surrounding them meant that Donghyuck’s tender comment wasn’t just for Mark’s ears but for the entire group to hear. The words had barely left his lips when the confusion began.

From somewhere to their right, Chenle cleared his throat, his tone teasing but not unkind when he said, “That’s a very Mark-like observation to make.”

Donhyuck paused, the statement settling awkwardly in the air. At first, it was easy to brush off—just Chenle being Chenle—but then he caught sight of Mark’s expression. His boyfriend looked surprised, though not in a way that felt particularly amusing. It was subtle, but Donghyuck could read him like a book. That quiet flicker in Mark’s eyes was enough to confirm that he, too, silently agreed with Chenle.

And that didn’t sit well with Donghyuck.

What exactly was a Mark-like observation supposed to mean? And more importantly, how was it any different from a Donghyuck-like one?

His mind began to spin with comparisons he didn’t quite want to make. He knew he could be louder, bolder, and more dramatic than Mark, but that didn’t mean his thoughts—or the way he expressed them—were less meaningful. Was it so strange for him to point out something sentimental too?

The unease gnawed at him, subtle but persistent, the kind that sneaks into quiet corners of the mind and refuses to leave. He couldn’t shrug the comment off, not without at least trying to understand. “What is that even supposed to mean?”

Only half of his attention was on the answer. His focus was split between the conversation and the changing expressions on Mark’s face—something between muted amusement and quiet contemplation.

Jeno was the one to respond, and Donghyuck didn’t miss how that meant he and Chenle seemed to share the same train of thought. “That’s usually the kind of thing Mark cares about,” Jeno said, his tone casual, almost dismissive.

The words weren’t meant to be hurtful—just an offhand remark in passing—but that didn’t make the impact any less jarring. The unspoken, not you hung in the air like a shadow, a ghost of implication that Donghyuck couldn’t ignore. It wasn’t a mean jab said to cause damage, but a conclusion drawn from what they were used to seeing—Mark as the thoughtful and sentimental one, the one who noticed and cherished the little things. 

And Donghyuck agreed wholeheartedly with them. Mark had always been that way, and it was one of the things Donghyuck loved the most about him. But somehow, the obvious truth in Jeno’s observation wasn’t comforting, not when it seemed to put them on such different levels. The words lodged in Donghyuck’s chest, stirring an uncomfortable mix of feelings he couldn’t quite name. Was it frustration? Embarrassment? Annoyance, maybe?

He barely had time to untangle his thoughts before Mark spoke, his voice cutting softly through the noise in Donghyuck’s mind.

“I didn’t think you remembered,” Mark said, and the simplicity of the statement caught Donghyuck completely off guard.

Mark’s gaze was fixed on him, warm and tender, with a flicker of awe as if he was seeing a side of Donghyuck he wasn’t quite familiar with. Donghyuck thought there was a piece of a puzzle somewhere falling into place, one he wasn’t seeing just yet but would do his best to discover. The way Mark’s expression softened made Donghyuck think his words held a greater weight to Mark than he realised.  Donghyuck had always prided himself on understanding Mark, on knowing the little things that made him smile. But now, for the first time in a while, it felt like it was Mark the one discovering something new about him instead—and it was both exhilarating and disarming.

Donghyuck shifted, pulling back slightly from where his head had been resting on Mark’s shoulder. His brows knitted together, his thoughts scrambling to keep up with the turn the conversation had taken. 

“Why wouldn’t I?” Donghyuck asked, his voice even quieter now, tinged with shyness he hadn’t felt around Mark in a long time. He was no longer speaking for the benefit of the group—this was just for Mark.

The assumptions and teasing from their friends faded into the background, overshadowed by the much more pressing need to understand what Mark was thinking. Donghyuck’s gaze stayed firmly on Mark, searching for clarity in the gentle warmth of his boyfriend’s eyes, hoping to find answers that would ease the strange tightness in his chest.

However, it seemed like the conversation had ended just as quickly as it had begun. Mark didn’t offer an explanation—maybe because he didn’t quite have one ready, or maybe because this wasn’t the right moment to dive into it. Instead, he simply shrugged, his nose scrunching with the movement in a way that was so distinctly Mark it softened the edges of Donghyuck’s nervousness.

For a brief moment, Donghyuck had considered worrying about the lack of answers. He always did when Mark seemed to hold something back and his thoughts felt out of reach. It usually left a heavy weight on his chest, an itch to do more, to say more—to pull Mark closer and make sure nothing important was left unsaid. But before the instinct could kick in, Mark beat him to it.

With a gentle tug on their joined hands, Mark pulled Donghyuck closer, the action so well practised that it felt like second nature to the both of them. The small gap between them vanished, and before Donfhyuck could react, Mark leaned in and pressed a warm, fleeting kiss to his temple.

The sound of their friends groaning in mock disgust immediately followed a chorus of exaggerated ew ’s breaking the moment. Donghyuck’s face burned with embarrassment, but the teasing barely registered. His heart was too busy racing, thudding so wildly in his chest he could feel it in his ears. After four years of this, Mark’s affection still had the same effect on him as the first time.

He felt it then—that unshakable certainty that he had said something extremely right. Whatever he had said, whatever he had done, it had mattered to Mark enough to leave him speechless in the best of ways.

Out of the corner of his eye, Donghyuck caught Jaemin watching them. There was a glint in his eyes, equal parts smug and knowing, as he had already pieced together the puzzle Donghyuck was still struggling with. Jaemin’s small, satisfied smile said just as much.

For once, Donghyuck took the reassurance for what it was.

—

It was nothing. It had been nothing, or at least, that’s what Donghyuck kept telling himself. Yet, no matter how much he convinced himself otherwise, he couldn’t let it go. Mark hadn’t changed, he hadn’t acted any differently since that conversation a few days ago. He was still the same most wonderful boyfriend Donghyuck could have asked for—sweet, gentle, and endlessly patient. And still, there it was, a lingering feeling Donghyuck couldn’t quite name, gnawing at the back of his mind.

The more he replayed that moment—the way Mark had looked at him, surprised and maybe even a little moved, and the way he had pulled him closer afterwards—the more Donghyuck was certain that they had been on the brink of a new conversation. He was sure he had been about to uncover a hidden corner of Mark’s heart, a part of him Donghyuck hadn’t yet been introduced to, even after all these years.

Donghyuck hated leaving things unresolved, especially when it came to Mark. So, driven by equal parts desperation and impatience, he did the only thing he could think of—he went to Na Jaemin, Mark’s ex-boyfriend-turned-best-friend.

“The last time you asked me about my boyfriend Mark instead of my best friend Mark was before you two even got together. This must be serious for you to come to me about it again,” Jaemin said, his voice laced with amusement. Donghyuck could practically hear the smirk in his tone, and he immediately knew Jaemin was having way too much fun with the situation. 

“Your ex- boyfriend Mark, Na Jaemin. Don’t push it,” Donghyuck shot back, trying to suppress the heat creeping up his neck.

Jaemin chuckled, leaning back in his chair and clearly enjoying himself. “It’s still so easy to rile you up about this. It’s been, what, three years—”

“Four.”

“—and you still never learn. I won’t get tired of doing it if you keep reacting like this every time.” His smile was teasing, that Jaemin brand he carried everywhere. There was a familiarity to it now, an old inside joke that Donghyuck might have been annoyed by once, but had never quite been able to shake off. Donghyuck rolled his eyes, but even he couldn’t stop the corner of his mouth from twitching into a reluctant simple. He couldn’t deny that a part of him appreciated how the banter managed to ease the tension he had been carrying with him all day.

At first, before Donghyuck had been made aware that his feelings for Mark were mutual, Jaemin’s presence had felt like a constant, looming threat. An ex-boyfriend—someone with whom Mark had shared all those tender, intimate moments Donghyuck was now experiencing for himself, still such an integral part of Mark’s everyday life. And the fact that Jaemin was a flirt at heart, always throwing around comments that made even Donghyuck’s ears burn, certainly didn’t help. For a long time during the early stages of their friendship, Donghyuck had found himself bracing for the inevitable, for Mark to come to him one day and announce he and Jaemin were back together. 

But that day never came. Instead, Donghyuck got himself an amazing boyfriend—someone who had not only reciprocated his feelings all along, but had also gushed about him to Jaemin enough to have him root for them from day one. Things didn’t shift immediately, but the tension that once existed between him and Jaemin gradually faded, leaving a blossoming friendship in its wake. Still, there were moments when a faint feeling of unease lingered. Not because he didn’t trust Jaemin—even with the rocky start they had, he genuinely did—but because they still weren’t as close as they could have been. Insecurities, whispers of doubt, would creep in when he saw how effortlessly Mark and Jaemin remained connected, how their shared history brought them closer in ways Donghyuck didn’t always understand. The familiarity between them would never fade, and while he logically knew he had no reason to feel threatened, sometimes, it was just a little harder to swallow.

But in all of this, with or without Jaemin’s presence, Mark had never once made Donghyuck feel like he wouldn’t choose him—not now, and not in any other moment to come. They had even talked about it, early on in their relationship—when the inside jokes between Mark and Jaemin made Donghyuck feel bitter instead of amused. He would never forget how Mark had looked him straight in the eyes, serious and sure , and said, “I wouldn’t have given you my heart to take care of if I hadn’t known for a fact I didn’t want to be with anyone besides you.” That, right then and there, had been enough to make everything else fade into the background.

Back to the present day, Donghyuck scoffed at the playful jab trying to play it off, but he knew Jaemin had the upper hand at the moment. After all, he was the one seeking advice and Jaemin wasn’t about to let him forget. “Now that you’ve gotten the teasing out of your system, are you finally going to hear me out?”

Jaemin’s usual presence—half menace, half mischief—always had a way of getting under Donghyuck’s skin. He was way too familiar with that act considering he was just the same—opposites attract and maybe two people who were too similar hated each other a little bit. But despite all the playful taunts, Donghyuck knew better than anyone how much Jaemin cared about his friends. So, once the initial provocations settled, Jaemin did what he did best—he cut to the heart of the matter.

“Does this have anything to do with your reaction to what happened the other day?” Jaemin asked, his voice taking up a more serious note. He didn’t give Donghyuck a chance to sidestep the question, diving straight into the problem that had been eating at him all week. The way he phrased it, there was no point in pretending like it was about anything but that.

Donghyuck nodded, slumping deeper into the armchair, the weight of the conversation pressing down on him. So Jaemin had noticed too, great. “Did Mark say anything to you after it happened, or did you just figure it out on your own?” he wondered, voice quieter now.

Jaemin shrugged nonchalantly, though his eyes remained focused and thoughtful. “It was pretty clear that he was surprised by what you said. He didn’t tell me anything, I’m just really good at reading his reactions. And I also know you well enough to see that you weren’t expecting him to be so taken aback.” He paused, a small, knowing smile tugging at his mouth. “So, what’s going on?”

Donghyuck exhaled slowly, feeling the question settle heavy on his chest. He took another deep breath. “When you were together,” he began, choosing his words carefully, “did you ever feel like Mark thought he cared about you more than you cared about him?” his voice faltered just slightly at the end, betraying the vulnerability that lingered behind the question.

That was what had been on Donghyuck’s mind this whole time. A part of him thought it was impossible—how could Mark not realise how much he meant to him? How could he not see that Donghyuck would be lost without him? But then, the other part of him recognised the signs, the subtle shifts that marked something deeper. Mark’s reaction to Donghyuck’s offhand comment about the sweater, the way it had seemed to catch him off guard, had stirred something in Donghyuck’s memory—a reminder of a much younger Mark. The Mark who had always seemed to light up with hope whenever Donghyuck, then just a friend, showed a glimpse of something more.

It stung, in a way, to have his boyfriend of four years—the one who should know him better than anyone else—question the depth of his love, to be so surprised by something as small and insignificant as an observation about a sweater. Was he really that bad at showing Mark how much he loved him? Yet, despite the ache, Donghyuck couldn’t shake the feeling that there must have been something else at play here. If Mark really doubted his feelings, if their relationship was built on uncertainty, it wouldn’t have been as strong as it was, it wouldn’t have lasted as long either.

Jaemin blinked, his brow furrowing slightly as he processed the question. He took some time to toss it around in his mind, trying to find the right words to offer a useful answer.

“I think—no, let me start by saying this, because I can see the wheels turning in your brain,” Jaemin began, his tone amused but firm. “Believe me when I say this is not about Mark doubting you or your relationship. I can tell because, first, I think I know what this could be about—he and I kind of went through something similar. And second, he wouldn’t stop talking about you even if I taped his mouth shut.” he paused, a spark briefly crossing his eyes. “For the record, I tried. My point is that all of that isn’t exactly the behaviour of someone disappointed with their boyfriend.” 

The way Jaemin spoke, so sure of himself, made it hard for Donghyuck not to believe him. Plus, Jaemin was nothing if not blunt, especially about his protectiveness over Mark—if there had been any real issue he was aware of, Donghyuck knew he wouldn’t have hesitated to fight him about it if it meant making sure Mark was happy again. Jaemin wouldn’t have lied for his sake if he knew Mark was anything but fine—that alone was enough to settle some of the unease Donghyuck was feeling.

“What do you mean that you went through this too?” Donghyuck asked, leaning forward slightly, suddenly curious and hopeful Jaemin might actually help him more than he expected.

Jaemin shifted in his seat, his expression softening. “It was early on in our relationship when we were still figuring stuff out,” he explained, his gaze distant, as though recalling a moment from long ago. “I think Mark and I are more similar than you guys are, at least when it comes to how we experience relationships. I’m not saying one is better or worse, just…different. At some point, I came to realise that when I talked to him—really talked—it made him happier than I’d ever seen him before.”

Jaemin’s voice had grown impossibly warm the more he talked, a fond look in his eyes that made Donghyuck pause for one second. He had always wondered how Mark and Jaemin managed to stay so tender with each other, even after everything. Mark himself had once told him how difficult it had been at first, that it wasn’t as simple as just moving on after their breakup even though it was a mutual decision. Yet, somehow, they had fallen into a rhythm as best friends almost immediately—like nothing really had to change.

Donghyuck blinked in confusion. “I don’t think I get what you mean. Talking? That’s all I do. All day, every day. I’m definitely the more talkative between the two of us.” 

He felt like he was clearly missing the point, but Jaemin seemed unusually patient, not jumping into his usual teasing now that Donghyuck had his guard down. He smiled instead, sensing his perplexity.

“What do you say to him though?” Jaemin questioned, lowering his voice like he was letting him in on a secret. “It’s not just about talking, it’s about letting him truly see you. Mark’s not the type to ask for reassurance, but I think he needs it from you more than you realise. When we were dating, we got to a point where, when he did something that made me happy, I’d tell him right away. When I suddenly thought about him during a random moment of my day, I’d text him about it immediately. When our anniversary came, we’d spend hours just talking about the memories we had together. I think that’s what makes him feel genuinely loved—when you spell things out so clearly for him, that there’s no room left for him to  wonder how you feel.”

Donghyuck froze, the weight of Jaemin’s words slowly sinking in. He had been giving Mark pieces of himself since day one—he was certain of it. The constant touches, the looks, the quiet affection that spoke volumes, and Mark had always seemed to get it. Something didn’t add up.

“I don’t get it though,” Donghuck admitted. “Maybe you’re onto something. I display my love for him in other ways, but he feels it. He must. I’ve been head over heels for him since day one—hell, I can’t even stand being at arm’s reach from him and not touching him. That has to mean something to him, too, right?”

Donghyuck was almost pleading, his words slipping out before he could stop them, desperate for clarity. He wasn’t just talking to Jaemin anymore. He was brainstorming out loud, hoping to find something—anything—that could give him the key to what was going on in Mark’s mind. But, as much as he didn’t want to acknowledge it, he still didn’t feel like he understood any more than he had before.

“I need to understand what I’m missing,” Donghyuck admitted, as if putting his whole trust into Jaemin’s hands would somehow help piece everything together.

Jaemin chuckled, the sound warmer than usual as he leaned forward to pat Donghyuck’s head. For once, the gesture didn’t feel condescending but rather reassuring. 

“Think about it this way,” Jaemin began. “Physical touch is a big thing for you, right? When he hugs you or kisses you, that’s when you feel the most loved, isn’t it? Now, imagine if he kept telling you he loved you—saying all these sweet words—but wasn’t as affectionate with you. Sure, it’d mean a lot, the words themselves would probably still make you pretty happy, but after a while, wouldn’t it start to feel like something was missing?”

Donghyuck’s mind wandered to an alternative version of their life together. In it, Mark told him he loved him every night before bed, but didn’t pull him close to cuddle as they drifted off to sleep. A life where Mark called him cute before leaving for work but skipped the goodbye kiss that always ended up lingering more than Mark’s tight schedule should have allowed. A life where they strolled down Seoul's busy streets, laughing and teasing like always, but without the grounding warmth of their entwined hands between them.

The thought made his stomach twist uncomfortably, a grimace tugging at his lips. It felt wrong—he felt sad for that version of himself.

The realisation hit him moments later, sharp and clear, like sunlight finally piercing through the dark clouds. With it, came the answer he’d been searching for all week. I’d feel like I was missing a piece , Donghyuck thought, shaking his head at the sheer impossibility of it.

Finally, he nodded, his shoulders relaxing as the tension began to ebb. “Yeah”, he murmured, almost to himself. “Yeah, I think I get it.”

Jaemin smiled, leaning back with a satisfied expression that was back on bordering on smugness. “There you go. That’s what I’m talking about. It’s not that he doubts your feelings—it’s just that the way you show them might not always lend the way you think it does. You’re a physical touch kind of person, and he loves that about you. But Mark’s more of a words kind of person. If he means as much to you as you say, make sure he hears it in a way that matches your actions. He loves you—he knows you love him too—but a little extra clarity wouldn’t hurt.”

Donghyuck let out a long breath, one he hadn’t even realised he’d been holding. The weight that had pressed against his chest all week began to lift, replaced by a sense of determination finally breaching through the doubt he’d been downing in.

As if his brain had hit rewind on the past four years of his life, Donghyuck found himself watching memories he hadn’t fully processed until then. That one time Mark had approached him, looking hesitant but sincere, to ask why Donghyuck hadn’t told him he loved him in three days. Donghyuck had laughed it off at that time, genuinely unaware of Mark’s worry because he’d thought he didn’t need to say it for it to be true. Or that day last year, on their anniversary, when Mark had confessed—eyes bright and voice steady—that he could see himself growing old with Donghyuck by his side. Overwhelmed, Donghyuck had kissed him silly, believing the gesture was enough to convey his agreement. He hadn’t noticed, in that moment of bliss, the split second of disappointment flickering in Mark’s eyes.

Mark was always so generous with his affection when it came to Donghyuck—his hugs, his kisses, his soft caresses—meeting his needs with effortless devotion. And yet, for the first time since they’d been together, Donghyuck began to wonder if he’d truly met Mark halfway. Donghyuck felt loved because Mark was doing a pretty damn good job at reading him, finding out what made him the happiest and working his hardest to never let himself forget it, even if it meant changing his own habits. But Donghyuck—how often had he assumed that Mark just knew ? That his actions made his love so obvious it didn’t need to be spelt out?

The knowledge left a hollow ache in his chest.

“I need to talk to him,” Donghyuck declared suddenly, his voice resolute in a way it hadn’t been since this whole mess had started bugging him. A fire of determination burned in his chest, the haze of doubt finally clearing for good. “I mean, about this specifically—but also, just…in general. I can’t believe how there’s even a chance he doesn’t know how much sappy shit constantly runs through my brain every time I look at him. He’s the love of my life, for crying out loud. I don’t think I’ve forgotten one thing he has said to me since we got together, even if it was just meaningless small talk—oh God,” Donghyuck groaned, as another realisation hit him like a wall of bricks. “That’s why he was so surprised I noticed his sweater.” 

Jaemin raised an eyebrow, clearly amused, but didn’t interrupt his flow of thoughts. Of course, Mark had been surprised because, after all, Chenle’s comment had been true. Pointing out the sweater, bringing up a meaningless memory like that, proving that he had a whole lot of them in his mind—that was a very Mark thing to do. Donghyuck usually teased him every time he said something sappy just to press his own smile against his lips a second later. And he had thought it was enough, how could it not when Donghyuck couldn’t even begin to put his feelings into words, but could much more easily spend the night trailing kisses all over Mark’s body to show him instead. 

Now that he knew what he had to do, Donghyuck couldn’t wait another second. “I need to go give my dumb, lovely boyfriend a piece of my mind,” he announced to the room, standing up so quickly that even Jaemin jumped a little. His face was flushed, his chest warm with urgency.

“I hate to say this, but that was actually helpful. Thanks, I guess. I owe you one.” Donghyuck struggled through the words, not because he wasn’t genuinely grateful, but because he knew Jaemin would use this moment to blackmail him until the end of his days.

Jaemin’s laugh rang out, as clear and triumphant as Donghyuck had expected. “Yeah, yeah. Go clear things up with your boyfriend now that I did most of the work for you. If I find out you’ve screwed this up, though, I’m taking him back for myself.”

Donghyuck’s hurried steps faltered for a moment, and he turned just enough to throw Jaemin a pointed glare. “You’re lucky I’m in a hurry, Na Jaemin. Otherwise—”

“Otherwise what?” Jaemin grinned, cutting him off with a wave. “You should be extra thankful, man. You’re even getting the ‘supportive friend’ package from me even though you’re practically stealing Mark away from me.”

Donghyuck rolled his eyes good-naturedly but decided to let it slide, already halfway into his jacket. He couldn’t afford to waste another second, not when Mark was waiting. But just as he reached the door, Jaemin’s voice called out one last time. “Don’t underestimate it, I’m serious! I didn’t even do anything to the guy—besides you know, maybe make out with the guy he dated in front of him—yet I still got the ‘jealous ex’ treatment from Mark’s ex-boyfriend.”

Again, Donghyuck froze mid-step, his head tilted as he turned to look at Jaemin again with genuine curiosity. “Wait…Mark’s ex that isn’t you? You’ve met Mark’s other ex before you?”

Jaemin’s smirk widened, clearly revelling in the moment. “Dude, that other American kid? How did you miss him, I still randomly see him in the clubs we go to.”

Donghyuck opened his mouth to ask for more details—simple curiosity for the sake of curiosity—but caught himself. No. Not now. Jaemin’s grin said it all—this was a bait, and Donghyuck had more pressing things to focus on.

“Another time.”

Jaemin’s teasing laugh followed him out of the door, warm and self-satisfied.

For now, all Donghyuck cared about was his heart pounding with resolve as he ran home, ready to make sure Mark knew—without a shadow of a doubt—just how deeply, endlessly loved he truly was.

—

The half-hour Donghyuck spent waiting for Mark to finish work felt like an eternity. Time dragged its feet, each second stretching longer than the last, weighted down by the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside him. He was angry at himself for never noticing how Mark’s eyes lit up those rare times when Donghyuck had used words, not gestures, to express the depth of his feelings. Then came the disbelief—how could Mark, his Mark, still harbour a sliver of doubt about their relationship? To Donghyuclk, the thought of a life without Mark was like a blank canvas with no colour. It was insane to think Mark might not have known. But above all, he was resolute. He was going to fix this. He was going to make sure Mark understood, through words this time—carefully chosen and spoken from the heart—just how sincerely he was loved.

When Mark finally stepped through the door of their cosy little apartment—the one they had rented for themselves just last year—it took him approximately two seconds to notice something was off. Donghyuck’s energy buzzed in the air like static, jittery and uncontainable, pulling Mark’s attention immediately. Mark tilted his head, dropping his bag by the door as he toed off his shoes.

“Hyuck?” he called out softly, a hint of concern threading through his voice. “You okay?”

Donghyuck jumped to his feet, now standing awkwardly in the middle of the living room, his hands fidgeting at his sides and lips pressed into a tight line. The confidence he had felt just moments earlier, as he decided to speak his mind, had all but evaporated the second he was face to face with Mark’s wide eyes. In its place was something raw, unfiltered—a mess of emotions battling for dominance. He felt the urge to blurt everything out immediately, but also the need to be patient, ensuring Mark truly understood what he was trying to say.

Caught in the middle, he opted for something familiar. He stepped forward and pressed a small peck to Mark’s lips—a selfish little gesture, grounding himself in Mark’s comforting presence before plunging headfirst into what he needed to say. Mark was still standing two steps away from the main door, jacket still on. Donghuck hadn’t even let him properly inside in his haste to do something . Even when Donghyuck pulled back, Mark lingered there for a moment longer, taking in Donghyuck’s unusual demeanour, his expression softening with curiosity.

“Go get comfy,” Donghyuck urged, his voice shaky but laced with affection. “Then I need to talk to you about something.”

Mark raised an eyebrow, his gaze shifting all over Donghyuck as if trying to read the words he wasn’t saying. Still, he didn’t press—Mark never did. Instead, he simply nodded, finally slipping off his jacket. “Do I need to overthink this while I shower,” he asked, though, already halfway to their bedroom, “or can you at least tell me we’re not about to break up?” 

Mark asked so lightly that, to anyone else, it might have sounded like a comment rooted in confidence—a rhetorical question he already knew the answer to. But Donghyuck wasn’t just anyone and he’d learned long ago to read all the nuances in Mark’s expressions. The way his eyes widened ever so slightly as he spoke, the faint hesitation in his step—it was subtle, but it was there.

Donghyuck stayed rooted where he was, his gaze following Mark as he moved about their shared space. “You’re so dumb, Mark Lee,” he finally muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. “I am in love with you.” 

Mark paused in his quest to find a new set of clothes to lounge in, turning back to Donghyuck with his head tilted in that endearing way he always did when he was confused and curious all at once. His eyes sparkled that familiar warmth Donghyuck had fallen for years ago. “That didn’t answer my question at all,” he pointed out, lips curling into a small smile.

Just like that, something clicked. Watching Mark stand there, as beautiful and exasperating as ever, Donghyuck couldn’t help but laugh, soft and disbelieving. It wasn’t just amusement or affection—he felt a sudden wave of gratitude, to the heavens or perhaps even to Na Jaemin himself, for giving him the key to unlock something so simple yet crucial. To help him understand why Mark looked so genuinely happy in that moment, even with the words break up hanging in the air. It was in how his eyes sparkled, the quiet hope and curiosity etched in his features, waiting for Donghyuck to explain what he wasn’t grasping.

“It did,” Donghyuck said, his voice finally steadier, each word carrying a certainty he was missing until then. “It really did.”

Mark’s confusion deepened for a fleeting second. His head tilted, his lips pressed together in thought as if trying to piece together the meaning behind Donghyuck’s cryptic words. But instead of probing further, he let it slide, breaking into that familiar, heart-melting smile of his before retreating to the bathroom to take his shower.

As the sound of the running water echoed softly through the apartment, Donghyuck exhaled, leaning into the couch cushions with a giddy grin tugging at his lips. He sat there, his thoughts swirling, his heart racing as he waited eagerly for Mark to come back. 

Mark was done with his shower in record time, obviously rushing through it in his eagerness to get back to Donghyuck as fast as possible. When he finally joined him on their couch, his skin was flushed pink from the heat, and his hair was a fluffy mess of blond strands peeking out under the hood of his sweatshirt. He looked soft, cuddly, and entirely like Donghyuck’s favourite person in the world.

Donghyuck shifted on the couch, crossing his legs to face Mark, his thoughts finally narrowing in on the boy sitting in front of him. The weight of the moment wasn’t lost on him, but for once, he felt ready to carry it.

“I’m going to ask you a silly question,” Donghyuck began, “and you have to be honest with me.” He met Mark’s gaze, watching as his boyfriend’s brown eyes darted around, trying to read the conversation before it had even begun. The nervous energy in Mark’s shoulders relaxed the moment Donghyuck reached for his hand, his fingers weaving into Mark’s without hesitation.

Mark nodded.

Donghyuck took a deep breath, his thumb idly tracing the back of Mark’s hand as if to ground himself. “On a scale from one to ten, how much do you think I love you?”

The silence that followed was deafening. For a moment the room held nothing but the sound of their breaths and the faint hum of the heater. Then Mark started sputtering nonsense, the beginning of at least twenty different sentences tumbling out before he could string together a coherent answer.

“What—how can I even rate that?” Mark finally managed, his wide eyes staring at Donghyuck as if he’d just asked him to solve quantum physics. 

Donghyuck couldn’t help but chuckle quietly at his reaction. It was exactly what he had expected, and yet it didn’t fail to amuse him. The whole thing was almost ironic—if the roles were reversed, Donghyuck knew he would answer with a confident ten without missing a beat, even if he hadn't understood the question.

“Nah-ah,” Donghyuck teased, shaking his head with a grin, “I told you it was silly, but I’m not letting this go until you give me a number.”

Mark groaned, the hand not holding Donghyuck’s running through his still-damp hair. Donghuck’s other hand squeezed his thigh in reassurance.

“Eight and a half? Nine?” Mark started hesitantly, his brow furrowed in thought. “I don’t know, Donghyuck. I can’t just put four years into a number like that.”

Donghyuck wasn’t going to pretend like it didn’t hurt that the answer wasn’t an immediate, confident ten but he quickly figured that this was exactly the point of the whole conversation. As much as it stung, this wasn’t about pride, but about making sure there were no blind spots between them anymore. He hummed, letting Mark's answer settle in his head for a second before finally asking the real question that had been lurking in his mind.

“Is that why you were so surprised when I remembered the sweater you were wearing on our first date?” Donghyuck’s voice was even, almost too careful. “Is that the kind of thing that falls in that one-and-a-half that’s missing to make it a full ten?”

He tried to school his tone, softening it so that Mark wouldn’t mistake his words for an accusation. Because it wasn't—it was all about curiosity, a genuine need to connect the dots, mixed with the determination to prove his point and maybe, just a trace of worry.

However, it seemed like they weren’t entirely on the same page. Mark’s expression shifted, and guilt began to creep into his features, something Donghyuck hated seeing. Before he could clarify, Mark let go of his hand only to cup his face, his thumb brushing against Donghyuck’s cheeks.  

“No, Donghyuck, baby, this has nothing to do with that.” Mark’s voice was soft but urgent as if he needed Donghyuck to believe every word. “I don’t think you love me any less because you don’t remember little, meaningless details from ages ago.” 

Donghyuck blinked, his focus fully locked on Mark’s face—not that his eyes could ever stray from him for long. He could feel the warmth of Mark’s hand grounding him, but still, something in his chest squeezed at the thought that Mark had misunderstood his intent.

“The thing is,” Donghyuck explained, “I do remember the details. I always have. And if it’s not about you thinking I don’t care enough, I guess I just don’t understand why you would doubt that I do.” 

To emphasize his point, Donghyuck shifted a little closer on the couch, his knees brushing against Mark’s. He gently pulled Mark’s hand from his face and clasped it between his own, resting them on his lap. But not before he leaned down to place a small kiss on each of Mark’s knuckles, his lips lingering just long enough to feel Mark’s slight intake of breath.

Mark seemed to soften at the gesture, his shoulders relaxing even more as the tension visibly drained from his body. Slowly, realisation dawned in his expression, like he was piecing together why Donghyuck had started this conversation in the first place. Above all, Mark could see now that Donghyuck wasn’t upset with him—not really. He wasn’t angry or heartbroken. Instead, there was a gentle determination in his gaze, an eagerness to bridge a gap they both hadn’t even realised was there.

That understanding seemed to give Mark the confidence to speak more freely, his words no longer weighed down by guilt or fear. His voice was quieter now but filled with a kind of affection that made Donghyuck’s heart ache.

“It’s just—we’re almost opposites when it comes to these things, aren’t we?” Mark began, briefly meeting his eyes before settling his gaze on their joined hands. “You’re always so focused on the present and where we’ll be in the future. And you have to believe me when I say I’ve never once doubted that you want us to spend the rest of our lives together. Never.” 

Mark paused, sorting out his thoughts. “I think I just get a lot more nostalgic than you do, which in turn makes me think more about where we were—how we even got here today. I can’t seem to forget all these dates, words, and moments between us. They make me so happy because—well, isn’t it crazy that I can still picture your face the first time I asked you to spend the night? And now—now, we’re living together.

He let out a chuckle, though there was something bittersweet about the sounds. “The realisation that it’s not just me, that you might feel the same way—that you might, I don’t know, get sentimental over this kind of thing—hit me harder than I was expecting. It just caught me off guard, I guess.”

Mark’s head dipped slightly, enough to have Donghyuck look at the crown of it. His laugh sounded a bit self-deprecating and a lot in love. Donghyuck, right then and there, loved him much more than he ever thought possible, more than words could ever capture. 

He loved him so much he wanted to open his chest and let Mark see for himself the way his heart beat for him and only him. He wanted him so much—always and forever—that it felt like the only thing that made sense was to fall into Mark’s arms and stay there, wrapped in his warmth forever.

Instead, he did the exact opposite.

“Wait here,” Donghyuck said, commanding but still oh-so gentle. He leaned in to press a quick kiss to Mark’s forehead before standing up and leaving the room. Mark’s confused voice called after him, but Donghyuck didn’t pay it any attention, his steps quick and purposeful.

A handful of seconds later, he returned, carrying a shoe box carefully in his hands. The colours on the box were faded with age, the edges slightly worn, but Donghyuck held it like it was something precious. And it was. He had never shown it to anyone, not even Mark. Part of it came from a fundamental shyness, but mostly, it was because he was so fiercely possessive of what the box held. It was his heart, his memories, his love, all captured in tangible form. 

Now, as he extended it toward Mark, Donghyuck realised something surprising—he wasn’t scared at all. 

Mark looked at the box, then at Donghyuck, puzzled. “What is this?” he asked, his voice low with curiosity and a hint of hesitation.

The box itself belonged to Donghyuck’s favourite pair of shoes—a simple black model of sneakers Mark had gifted him for his birthday the year before they got together. It had been just a few weeks after they’d met, but somehow, Mark had already known Donghyuck’s tastes better than most people. Donghyuck didn’t need to wonder if Mark remembered, he knew he did.

Donghyuck sat back down on the couch. This time, he left a small space between them, just enough to place the box there—a bridge between the two of them. 

“A time capsule,” Donghyuck smiled, his lips quirking upward in a way that betrayed both fondness and nerves. “Just open it.”

The way Mark’s gaze lingered on the box, his fingers hovering above it with a mix of reverence and hesitation, made Donghyuck’s chest ache with affection. Mark paused for a moment, glancing up at Donghyuck as if silently asking for confirmation. When Donghyuck gave him a small, encouraging nod, Mark slowly lifted the lid. His breath caught the moment his eyes landed on the contents inside.

The box was filled to the brim with little mementoes—tiny, seemingly insignificant pieces of their shared history that Donghyuck had secretly collected over the years. There were movie ticket stubs, folded paper napkins with doodles on them, a lip balm Mark recognised too well, and even the cap of the bottle from the soda Mark had opened for Donghyuck on their first official date. There was a wristband from a concert they’d gone to together, a key. Everything.

Donghyuck sat quietly, his heart both steady and racing, as he watched Mark sift through the items with a mixture of awe and disbelief. Each object seemed to transport Mark back to a moment in time, his expression shifting from amusement to tenderness with every discovery.

“You’ve kept all of this?” Mark finally managed to ask, his voice trembling just enough to send a pang of emotion straight to Donghyuck’s chest.

“Every bit of it,” Donghyuck admitted, a shy smile tugging at his lips. “I didn’t plan on it at first, you know? But with that first ticket—our first movie together—I couldn’t bring myself to throw it away. It felt…wrong. So, I started keeping everything, and it became this thing that made me happy, looking back and seeing all the little pieces of us.”

Mark was silent, his fingers gently brushing over the corner of a napkin with a poorly drawn heart on it. His lips quirked upward in recognition. “You’re the one who drew this during dinner that day,” he murmured.

Donghyuck chuckled softly. “And you teased me for it. Said it looked more like a potato than a heart.”

“It does look like a potato,” Mark replied, his grin widening before it faltered slightly. Mark’s fingers lingered on the items as if each one carried the weight of more than just a memory. The moment felt heavier somehow, too full of emotions Mark was finding hard to voice. Donghyuck, sensing the shift, took a deep breath and decided to fill the silence.

“Like I said, this is the first object that made it here,” he smiled as he carefully picked up the faded ticket. “I don’t think I’ve ever told you this, but I was a bit disappointed we were going to the cinema of all places. I wanted to talk to you, make you laugh, make you blush. But then you held my hand for the entire movie, and you let me cuddle up to you, and we did all the rest after. It was so easy to decide I wanted that with you again.”

A quiet understanding flickered in Mark’s eyes. The ticket was four years old now, the ink nearly faded beyond recognition, the paper yellow and bent around the corners. But Donghyuck could still remember it so clearly like it had only happened yesterday. He remembered the jitters before Mark came to pick him up, the awkwardness of trying to foreshadow what the night would hold. He could even picture the initial frown he tried to hide when he realised they would spend their date in silence, not able to see or talk to each other properly. He then thought of Mark’s hand in his for the first time, the familiarity with which they gravitated towards each other even though they had never let themselves be that obvious before. 

Mark hadn’t kissed him that day, but as Donghyuck recalled that evening, the memory of Mark’s soft smile—not unlike the one he wore now—filled him with the kind of longing that he hadn’t known how to express back then.

“I wish I’d kissed you that night,” Donghyuck confessed quietly, almost to himself, his voice filled with a wistful tenderness.

Mark’s eyes lifted to meet his, surprise in them before they melted. “I wish I had too,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Donghyuck, trying not to get too emotional, moved to the next object in the box—an almost-finished lip balm. He chuckled, shaking his head as he held it up for Mark to see.

“Sometimes you’re so obvious when you want something, Mark Lee,” he teased, his smile mischievous like it always was. “That day, I might have done it on purpose. Not sure you noticed it then, but you must have realised it sometime after. I can assure you, my lips were not that dry for me to need to apply lip balm three times in the span of ten minutes, but you couldn’t take your eyes off my lips every single time I did that. You hadn’t kissed me yet, and I sure wasn’t going to do that first, so I had to make you sweat a little. Kissing you now still makes my heart go all silly just like it did that day.”

Mark finally laughed, a nostalgic look in his eyes as he processed the memory. It had taken them an uncharacteristically long time to have their first kiss, especially considering how affectionate they had been since the very beginning. Donghyuck had always been a tease and, as much as he wanted it, he had waited for Mark to take the first step. He still didn’t quite understand why Mark had taken so long, maybe it was nerves or something else Donghyuck had never asked about. So, in Donghyuck’s true fashion, he’d teased Mark until he had no choice but to act, which worked wonders and had ultimately led them to a very long make-out session that left Donghyuck all loose-limbed and flushed.

Now, looking at Mark, Donghyuck couldn’t help but smile at the pure adoration on his boyfriend’s face. He also didn’t fail to notice the slight wetness in Mark’s eyes, emotions so clearly written in them that Donghyuck had to wonder once again how he had never caught on to the effect his honest words had on Mark.

Clearing his throat to regain some composure, Mark answered with a knowing smile. “Of course I noticed. Never seen you use that much lip balm before, or ever since. I just wanted to hang on a bit longer, not give in to you immediately ‘cause I knew you were trying to make me break. But at the same time, I wanted to kiss you since before our first date, so I didn’t have much self-restraint.” Mark’s voice was light, happy and full of wonder as if he was finally seeing a new perspective on a problem he was struggling with—a full picture of memories he had only known half of.

Donghyuck’s heart skipped a beat, the playfulness in his voice somehow making him feel more loved than ever. Mark was always so full of surprises. At that time, he had thought Mark’s hesitation to kiss him came from something else, but now, hearing it from him, Donghyuck understood—Mark had been struggling with his own desire, just as much as Donghyuck had. And then, like ever since, Mark had wanted to put his feelings into words before he acted on them.

Now, feeling the overwhelming tide of emotions between them, Donghyuck couldn’t wait any longer. He pulled Mark closer, closing the space between them for a kiss. At that moment, it felt like their first kiss all over again—the same fluttering excitement, the same anticipation. Yet, there was a familiarity, a sense of comfort in it that was proof of how hard they had worked for where they were. When they pulled back, they were both smiling like fools, their hearts so incredibly full.

Donghyuck picked out another object from the box, the last one for now. 

“Fast forward to a year later, this is the key to your old apartment—”

“Oh god, Hyuck, I think we were supposed to give it back,” Mark interjected with a nervous laugh.

Donghyuck smirked, unbothered. “I know we didn’t officially move in together then, but when you gave this to me and you let me into your home and made it a bit mine too, that was the first time I put away my rose-tinted glasses for a second, looked at you, and realised that no matter what, I wanted that to be our future. I wanted to have what we have now—a home to share until we grow old, with all of both of us in it. I wanted to wake up next to you every day, bicker and argue, even fight—because we’re two stubborn assholes when we want to be—but go to bed, never doubting that we love each other.”

They were both looking at the key in Donghyuck’s hand and for a moment, it felt like it had done more than simply unlock the door to an apartment—it had opened a whole future for them.

Donghyuck put the key back on top of all the other objects inside the box and closed the lid with deliberate care. Then, he moved the box to the floor but not before sliding closer to Mark first, the need to touch him suddenly unbearable. For the first time in a long while around Mark, he felt shy—embarrassed even. His mind caught up with him, realising he truly had never felt this vulnerably honest in front of his boyfriend. He had shown Mark his love in so many ways that felt clear to him, yet this was uncharted territory. As mildly uncomfortable as the feeling was, he felt powerful and proud of himself, and he vowed to reward Mark’s affections with words more often if it meant seeing the joy that Mark was clearly unable to contain in that moment. He wanted to be better at this—to make it a habit of telling Mark he loved him instead of relying on actions alone.

“That day, when you gave me the key, I told you I loved you for the first time. Right now, four years in, I think I love you even more than I did back then. And I don’t doubt the feeling will only grow. You make me the happiest I’ve ever been. Even when I am having the worst of days, you just being here calms me down to the point where I am terrified of a future where we’re not together. You’re it for me, Mark. All those memories you saved in your head—I saved them in this box, because how could I not when they made us who we are today?”

Donghyuck was drained, having laid his heart bare. It had been tiring, but infinitely rewarding. On the other hand, Mark was dead silent, but his face said more than enough—his lashes were wet with unshed tears, his cheeks flushed a soft pink, his eyes full of something that looked even stronger than love. Donghyuck had always found him beautiful, but never had he looked as breathtaking as he did then.

Without even realising, Donghyuck found himself with an armful of Mark. The older made himself smaller, curling into Donghyuck’s chest, his head tucked against his collarbone, knees bent to fit into the space between them. Mark’s arms wrapped around his waist, his hands slipping under Donghyuck’s shirt, innocently resting there like they did when Mark needed to feel him there, skin under his palms to prove to himself that Donghyuck was real.

Donghyuck didn’t push him for answers, because he recognised the signs. For someone who revelled in words as much as Mark did, sometimes they overwhelmed him enough to render him speechless. In moments like these, Mark’s only option was to speak with his body what his voice couldn’t say. It wasn’t the first time Donghyuck had to navigate a silent Mark—when work or stress consumed all his words for the day, Mark would bury himself in Donghyuck’s embrace for the rest of the day, seeking comfort without needing to ask for a thing. It was a pattern, a silent ritual they had come to share like so many other things in their lives.

And Donghyuck, who said I love you with kisses and I need you with hugs, understood.

“You are the love of my life,” Mark whispered, voice quiet enough to feel like a confession. He didn’t move from the embrace, curling even closer if possible, but his words were clearly for Donghyuck to hear. “You’re it for me too, always have been. I just want us to have this, to feel like this, for the rest of our lives. And I promise you, if it’s up to me, we will.”

Donghyuck’s heart was both broken and mended at the realisation that the collar of his shirt was damp, Mark’s unshed tears finally breaking free. He tightened his arms around Mark’s, one hand caressing the back of his neck, the other protectively resting in the middle of his back.

“Hey. Come up here,” Donghyuck urged, his hand on Mark’s neck moving to gently lift his head. “Please.”

When their eyes met again—Mark’s gaze still heavy with tears, and Donghyuck’s so full of love and adoration—the weight of everything they had shared, everything they had said, seemed to settle. The world quieted for a moment, as if all the noise, the doubt, and the fears had been swept away by the truth they had laid bare in front of each other.

Donghyuck brought Mark’s head closer, their lips finally meeting in a kiss that felt like a new promise, a new goal, something deeper than what had been there before. Mark hadn’t changed, and neither had Donghyuck, but with that kiss, Donghyuck knew with complete certainty that this was the last person he was allowing this close for the rest of his life. 

Their lips were soft and tender against each other, the moment demanding gentleness rather than passion. Mark had stopped crying, yet there was a rawness in the air around him as if just one more confession from Donghyuck would break the fragile balance he had found. But Donghyuck didn’t plan to say anything more, not when he had an entire box of memories, and the words that came with them, he could share with Mark when either of them needed it. Not when it seemed like Mark was finally understanding their kiss for exactly what it was—a quiet promise, but just as strong as any confession said out loud.

As they pulled away, their foreheads rested together, breaths mingling, arms and hands still keeping the other close, grounding them in the moment. The space between them seemed to vibrate with something deeper now—Donghyuck couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so loved, so seen as if it was much more than just their bodies that were connected.

“I’m going to ask you a silly question, and you have to be honest with me,” Donghyuck said, a mischievous glint in his eyes but his voice stayed as gentle as ever. It felt like replaying a scene from a movie, yet this time the script changed. The question came from a place of certainty, a place where the answer was as clear as day. Donghyuck was no longer afraid of falling because he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, Mark would catch him, every time, and they’d continue the fall together, hand in hand.

Mark hummed lightly, his breath warm against Donghyuck’s skin, his lips curving into a smile. If he caught the hint of déjà-vu, he didn’t mention it, letting Donghyuck continue. 

“On a scale from one to ten, how much do you think I love you?”

The question hung in the air, innocent yet charged with everything they had just shared. Mark’s fingers tenderly caressed Donghyuck’s cheek, as if he was trying to memorise every detail of the moment. The way Donghyuck’s lashes flutter at the gesture, the faintest smile on his lips, the soft pink blush on his cheeks. He could feel it all, the depth of Donghyuck’s love swimming around them like an invisible force.

Mark’s eyes sparkled like the entire Milky Way, full of warmth and certainty, when he answered, sure and honest.

“ Ten .” 

One word, one syllable, and yet it was everything Donghyuck had ever wanted to hear. And at last, with Mark’s confident answer, Donghyuck felt a calm, a peace settle over him that nothing else could have given him. No hesitation, no white lies—just the purest form of love, simple and undeniable.

As Donghyuck looked at Mark, something stronger than words, even stronger than actions, passed between them. The box, all the moments caught in it—they were pieces of a story they were continuing to write together. It wasn’t just a collection of memories destined to be covered in dust and forgotten—it was a symbol of everything they had been, everything they were, and everything they would become.

And that quiet ten wasn’t the answer to a silly question—it was the essence of their story, of their love, finally displayed in a way neither could doubt.

—

(“Donghyuck?” Mark called quietly in the darkness of their bedroom, his voice barely breaking the sound of the night around them.

The younger mumbled, his face tucked into the warmth of Mark’s chest, already two seconds away from falling asleep, the steady rhythm of Mark’s heartbeat lulling him closer to dreamland.

“Will you let me see the rest of the memories in your box?” Mark whispered, a touch of shyness in his voice, the question hanging between them like a silent request.

Donghyuck smiled, the corners of his lips automatically curving up with all the affection he was feeling in his body. He pressed a soft kiss to the chest beneath him, feeling Mark’s breath against his hair. 

“ Our box,” he murmured, his words a tender reassurance. “It’s mine as much as it is yours.”

Mark’s heart swelled at the sentiment, and without another word, he leaned down, capturing Donghyuck’s lips in a kiss. Their lips lingered, slow and unhurried, until Mark too couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore and the warmth of Donghyuck’s presence pulled him into a peaceful sleep.

There, in the quiet darkness of their shared home, the memories of their love were still being written—one kiss, one moment, one promise at a time.)