Golden Days | Markhyuck

10 | Regrets

Donghyuck wakes up after seemingly forever, covered with a thin blanket and with a pillow under his head. It's weirdly quiet, almost too quiet. He cracks open his eyes, immediately blinded by the light, but once he can adjust, he looks around.

He's lying on a pull-out couch, and Renjun's on the carpet next to it, his blanket thrown away somewhere further away, even though there's enough space for both of them. Donghyuck assumes he either fell off, or was kicked off. There's also a bottle of water on the other side, which Donghyuck takes and drinks large gulps from, desperate to relieve the dryness in his throat and the slowly sharpening pain in his head. It does next to nothing to help, though.

A bit farther away, he hears quiet chatter. Looking over, he sees two figures, both blond, so he assumes they're Jeno and Jaemin. His joints grumble and resist sudden movement, but he sluggishly stretches out his aching body, gets up and inches towards them clumsily. One of them, maybe Jaemin, but he's not entirely sure, stops him before he can walk straight into the table, and leads him to a chair. The other arrives with more water and a couple of pills, which Donghyuck takes eagerly, or what could be passed as eagerness in the zombie-like state of a hangover like he's never experienced before. That person also puts a plate of food, some fruit by the looks of it, in front of him, even though he can barely stomach the faint scent of coffee that cuts through the air.

Still, he slowly starts to properly wake up, and with it comes awareness of what's going on. He's in Jeno and Jaemin's shared apartment, though he doesn't remember how the hell those two managed to haul him over. There are a few bruises on his forearms, so that journey mustn't have been too smooth. However, he knows he should be grateful for the fact that they cared about him enough to not leave him in a ditch after that party.

He nibbles on a piece of orange, letting the sweet juice cut through the horrible decisions of last night. No more alcohol for a while, he thinks, although he tells that to himself every time this happens with little actual success.

The freshness brings him back to a simpler time, it gives him a feeling of nostalgia for the hot summer days of messing around, living his best life, in stark contrast to the bitter cold of November that never truly goes away. And then, along with the wakefulness that begins to sink in, come other memories.

Images of the party flash before his eyes, some more clear than others. Drinking far, far too much together with Renjun. Dancing his heart out to some EDM song he can't recall anymore. Mark, front and center in his mind, in that impossibly alluring outfit of his. Seeing him lying underneath, his hair messy and cheeks flushed, feeling his warmth in a way he'd always wanted to.

And then the vile words he shouted, the cold air against his skin, the glassy look in Mark's eyes...

Oh. Oh, god, no.

The last bit of air in his lungs escapes him as a weak, shaky breath, and before he can realize it, before he can truly understand why, he feels a drop fall onto the back of his hand.