Golden Days | Markhyuck

7 | Warmth

Things change for the better over the next several weeks. Instead of completely avoiding Mark, Donghyuck greets him in the hallway, receiving a smile in response. In the coffee shop, they engage in friendly small talk about literally whatever. One rainy, lonely Saturday evening, he convinces Mark to play online Mario Kart with him over voice chat.

Neither of them bring up what happened on the top of that hill. Donghyuck's grateful for that.

All is great. Well, except for the fact that Donghyuck's been sitting in the library for about four hours straight, banging his head against a pile of music history books, hoping that an essay about the historical significance of jazz music will materialize on his computer.

He's glad he had the foresight to start two weeks before the deadline instead of procrastinating until the last minute like he usually does, but with a topic this boring, it sucks no matter what. Less than it would have, but still.

Resting against the books, Donghyuck lets his mind wander. A certain memory comes to him, of that one time in his last year of middle school when he invited a bunch of classmates over for a study session that became more of a decathlon of disciplines such as paper ball throwing and book card houses, among others. He'd pay good money to be able to see one more time the librarian's face when she discovered it all. The only reason he didn't get blacklisted was that he needed the library's material to do his school work, but the librarian never forgave him. He didn't feel bad about it, though; those bitchy glare battles throughout high school were worth it.

Lost in his thoughts, he only faintly registers someone sitting down across the desk from him, but he ignores it in favor of staring at the creased fabric of his hoodie in the crook of his elbow.

"Shouldn't you be working?"

Donghyuck's eyes snap open at the sound of Mark's voice. He lifts himself up, shaking off some of the grogginess. "Yeah, I'm trying."

Mark laughs a bit. "Looks like it. Since when did you become this oblivious?"

In the time-honored tradition of 'anything you say will be used against you,' Donghyuck responds, "Speak for yourself."

No, it doesn't make sense. Donghyuck doesn't care. Mark's presence makes him unable to think straight.

To prove his point, he opens one of his books and starts glaring at the words on the page. "It is not music at all, it's merely an irritation of the nerves of hearing, a sensual teasing of the strings of physical passion," some professor said a century ago. Donghyuck can already feel his last few brain cells dying from the pretentiousness.

Mark's already tapping away at his keyboard, jotting down notes diligently, marking pages in his textbooks. He's completely in his element, as expected from an ace student, and Donghyuck would otherwise mock him for that. But the focused expression on his face is, for lack of a better word, fascinating, and Donghyuck can't look away for far too long. He should have really seen it coming when Mark eventually notices, looking up from his screen.

"So how long do you plan on staring?" Mark's voice is a touch lower than usual. Donghyuck mentally tries to tell his heart to shut the fuck up.

Two can play that game, though. After all, Mark was always the less forward one, the one who got flustered when anyone flirted with him in middle school.

Donghyuck leans back in his chair a bit. "I'm enjoying the view," he says as coolly as he can manage. He feels his ears heating up, so he pulls up his hood, attempting to make it look casual.

This is a bad idea and he knows it, but when has Donghyuck ever had decent ideas?

Mark smirks subtly, his tongue darting out for a moment to wet his lips. "Glad to deliver, then."