Golden Days | Markhyuck

11 | Silence

There's a certain beauty about the coffee shop at six in the morning, just before opening time, before anyone has come in and made the wind chime sing, before all that can be heard is chatter and the regular hissing of the coffee machine. Right now, it's nothing but the ventilation and the faint hum of the lights. Donghyuck takes a moment to appreciate it, listen to it, before he launches into the day.

With how hectic his life can be, Donghyuck enjoys the tranquility, the utter emptiness around him, and the only thing that can give him some semblance of peace of mind, even if it's only momentary. At least here he doesn't have to act like anyone or anything, he can simply let go of it all and let the routine and resulting sleepless nights consume him entirely.

But he has to laugh to himself, because if only it were that easy.

Sure enough, the stillness of the air is broken by that familiar ring of the chime, and he sees Mark walk in, all disheveled hair and baggy clothes and tiredness, half of his face hidden behind the glare of his glasses. It's only been five days since Donghyuck last saw him, so he can't help feeling a bit surprised.

Mark drops his card onto the coin tray. "I'll take a latte-"

"With a dash of caramel syrup, coming right up," Donghyuck finishes for him without thinking and marks it down.

He feels Mark's eyes on him, watching, waiting, and he doesn't really want to, but for the first time since the party, Donghyuck gazes back. He doesn't know what to expect. Sadness, anger, regret, perhaps. However, what he sees is nothing but a frigid, unyielding wall. That's not what fazes him most, though. It's the almost lost look in his eyes that sends a chill down his spine.

No, maybe not lost. Distant would be more accurate. Distant and cold and unfeeling.

Donghyuck doesn't get why it scares him. All this time he's been repeatedly telling himself the same thing: Mark deserved it. He deserved to hear it. And yet, he can't shake the guilt of seeing such apathy where there once was a shining beacon of life and laughter.

Get over it, Mark's a self-serving bastard, he tries to tell himself, but he'd be lying if he said that it's convincing anyone.

The door cracks open with that familiar chime, and Donghyuck finally manages to turn his attention away from Mark, trying to focus on his work instead. He follows through by muscle memory, moving robotically, because his mind is a total mess. You don't need him, Hyuck. You don't need him. It almost becomes a chant, a mantra by which to live. But there's still that other part that just can't let go, even after everything, no matter how mad he gets, no matter how much pain he feels.

There's definitely something wrong with that picture.

Let me cut the strings. Let me go. It's what he told himself nearly every night during that first rough year of high school, and now he finds himself saying it all over again. And yet, every time his finger hovered over the 'delete' button, every time he felt ready to start a new life, forget everything that happened before, forget all the memories and bury them deep within his heart, every time he was holding up those scissors, ready to snap them shut, all it took was an image of the past, a smile, a hug, and his resolve drained out of him completely.

He shakes his head slightly, wondering what kind of toxic shit is this.

The coffee's done in minutes, and Donghyuck sets it down on the counter, ready for the next customer. In his periphery, he sees Mark reach for the cup, but forces himself to not follow his movements, instead taking the next order. But out of his curiosity, he looks over the customer's shoulder when he has the chance.

It's not without reason. Ever since they started talking to each other again and Donghyuck told Mark about his schedule, Mark's always been the first customer through those doors every Thursday and Friday morning, always asking about how he had slept and how he's been doing, and in general being way too saccharine sweet for Donghyuck at 6am in the morning while he's operating on about 4 hours of sleep and a couple of shots of espresso. And after he had to return to working, Mark would take his usual seat by the window, pull out his laptop and write his school work for a few hours, occasionally sparing Donghyuck a fleeting glance.

But today, Mark heads straight out the door.

And the next day, he doesn't show up at all.