freak like me

The day started out like any other. Mark wouldn’t have known that, by the end of it, he’d be left questioning everything he thought he knew about the world, about himself.

He had met Lucas at the school gates to start the day. Lucas had, as he always did, grasped Mark’s hand, intertwined their fingers. As always, he didn’t let go of Mark until they reached their lockers, outside the science classroom.

“Yeri was saying that we don’t need to worry about the votes. It’s just a matter of waiting for them to announce the results,” Lucas said, as he absentmindedly stroked Mark’s palm with his thumb.

Lucas probably wasn’t even aware he was doing it, but every time his thumb crossed the sensitive skin in Mark’s hand, it set the nerve endings alight there. Somehow, the tingly feeling traveled, all the way to the back of Mark’s hand. Mark suppressed a shiver. He tried to focus on the conversation.

“You got her to tell you the vote count?” Mark laughed, a little nervously, “Isn’t that, like, collusion or something?”

Lucas’s thumb again crossed a faint path across Mark’s palm. Lucas grinned, a little crooked, a little mischievous.

“It’s not like she’s stuffing the ballot box for us or anything.”

Mark hesitated. He supposed that was true. Lucas released his hand, to open the classroom door for Mark. Mark went through. The moment he walked in, he locked eyes with the orange-haired boy at the back of the classroom, and pulled up to a stop.

Donghyuck-- that was the boy’s name, Mark was pretty sure. They’d gone to school together for almost four years, Mark probably should be surer than he felt on that.-- looked utterly bored. His expression didn’t shift out of boredom as he made eye contact with Mark. He looked down his nose as if everything that lay before him, everyone and everything in the classroom, was beneath him. Including Mark.

“She only let me know so we’d have time to prepare our speeches beforehand. We’ve gotta say something really iconic, you know. North Side High’s first ever prom kings-- people are gonna be expecting big things from us.”

Lucas walked up to Mark’s side, slinging his arm around Mark’s shoulders. Mark tried not to care when he noticed Donghyuck’s nostrils flare as his eyes narrowed on Lucas’s arm around him. So the guy was homophobic-- whatever.

Mark had dealt with his fair share of that shit before, he shouldn’t let this particular instance bother him more than any other. Especially when the judgement came from someone as inconsequential as the kid who always sat at the back of the classroom.

Still, Mark cast his eyes down, feeling the hot, prickling uncomfortable feeling that always came with knowing that such an integral part of him would always make some people out there turn away in disgust.

“Yeah-- that’s good of her,” Mark agreed with Lucas, faintly, “I think I’ll let you handle that part of it.”

“Of course!” Lucas tightened his grasp on Mark, squeezing his shoulders. That, at least, was familiar, comfortable. Mark relaxed into his hold, “Trust me, I’ve got this. I’ve been working on my acceptance speech since, like, sophomore year.”

Mark laughed. He knew just how true that was. Mark took his seat next to Lucas’s, near the front, and tried to put the ugly look from the boy at the back of of the class from his mind.

As class started, he felt a creeping, prickly feeling at the back of his neck. But every time he looked back, the boy was looking away, out the classroom window. Not paying anyone any mind, not even their teacher, and especially not Mark.

Mark frowned as he turned back to face the front. He’d been sure as anything that he’d felt eyes on the back of his head. It was inexplicable, like some sort of sixth sense. The crawling feeling was some new sensation he’d never felt before.

He refocused on the professor, as he droned on about the chemical composition of DNA. Mark scratched, absentmindedly, on the back of his knuckles as he jotted down the words adenine, guanine, cytosine, and thymine. He still felt tingly, as he had when Lucas had held his hand. Only, worse. It wasn’t pleasant anymore, but itchy, uncomfortable.

It remained tolerable for awhile but, as the professor began in on base swapping, and resultant changes in genetic code, the itchy sensation mounted. It grew worse, and worse, as Mark’s itching grew more intent.

What was at first simply uncomfortable became an almost painful feeling. Mark gasped, as the blunt tips of his fingernails left trails of red, raised skin in their wake.

The itch grew insistent, sharp. Mark couldn’t explain it, but it felt like something was pressing up against the skin between his knuckles, from the inside. The professor’s drone faded to a background white noise, his consciousness of the presence of all his classmates surrounding him became lost to him.

In dawning horror, Mark spotted movement. He drew his fingers from his knuckles, where blood had beaded, the skin scratched by his own fingernails. He saw something moving underneath the skin, three raised lines across the back of his hand, spanning the length of it, from his wrist to his knuckles.

Mark’s lips parted as he froze, staring at the three lines. He turned his gaze to his other hand, already knowing what he’d see there. The itchy feeling was present in that hand too. And, sure enough, he spotted three lines, spanning the length of the back of his other hand.

As he looked at his hands, Mark began to realize that the three lines were extending, up from within in him, out to his hand. They pushed up against the skin between Mark’s knuckles, a persistent ache that grew more and more painful as the skin grew tauter and tauter over the tips of the lines. It almost felt like his skin was about to break against the mounting pressure, burst and split open.

With that thought in mind, Mark pushed up and out of his chair. He caught his professor’s wide eyes and blurted out a quick,

“Bathroom!” before he slipped out from his desk and started, scrambling towards the classroom door. He didn’t even wait for the professor to permit him to leave, just opened the door and dashed out.

He spared a thought as he raced through the hall to the bathroom, for Lucas. He hoped he hadn’t embarrassed him too much with the outburst. God, Mark thought, as pushed through the door to the men’s room-- what the fuck was wrong with him? Why was he seeing things, feeling things that weren’t possible?

Mark stopped, panting, in front of the bathroom mirror. The rest of the bathroom was blessedly empty. A thought that Mark was grateful for as his gasps grew into pained moans, as the lines pressed up against his skin. He squeezed his eyes shut against the pain, gripped the rim of the sink with a tight grasp.

Mark snapped his eyes open, as he heard the bathroom door creak open. As someone entered. He quashed the unnerving, terrifying thought that it was Lucas, that he’d become concerned and he was about to see Mark at his least composed. Mark looked in the mirror, only to make eye contact with none other than the boy from his science class, the orange haired guy who’d glared at him.

“What-- what are you--?”

Mark couldn’t even finish asking his question, not as the sharp pain of skin splitting almost made his vision white out. Mark cried out, in pain and horror, as small, pointed nubs of-- of something burst out through the skin between his knuckles. White stained red with blood.

“Is this the first time this has ever happened to you?” the guy-- Donghyuck-- asked, quick and even, seemingly unaffected by Mark’s cry.

“Get out of here. Leave me alone,” Mark managed to say, between gritted teeth.

He squeezed his eyes shut out again, couldn’t suppress the pained, discomfited sound as the lines slid further out, splitting the skin between his knuckles wider and wider. Mark could feel them as they extended, as if they were part of him. His head dropped, as he took panicked, quick breaths.

He felt a light touch on the back of his shoulder, and he could hardly believe it. The Donghyuck guy was touching his shoulder, maybe trying to comfort him. Or, Mark thought, maybe he was simply relishing in the fact that he’d caught Mark so off guard.

Mark was so lost, confused, and, through it all, pained.

“Breathe,” Donghyuck directed him, voice low, then, “Jesus. Have you got some kind of healing factor?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Mark’s eyes snapped open again, as he glared at Donghyuck in the mirror. His own face terrified him-- the blood had drained from his skin, leaving him pale and his forehead was beaded with sweat. So he focused his eyes on Donghyuck.

He felt so unbelievably vulnerable. He had no idea what was going on, if he was losing his mind, if something was actually physically wrong with him. And this jerk was here, witnessing all of it.

“Look at your hands, Mark,” Donghyuck breathed, unbothered by Mark’s glare. Mark swallowed the defiant words that rose to his tongue, and looked down. The skin around the strange protrusions had healed somewhat, the blood just starting to dry as the skin around the finger-length extensions took on the pink, shiny look of a weeks-old scar.

Mark was embarrassed at that the sound he let out his mouth upon seeing the skin, already healing, and the bony, hardened protrusions sticking out. It was something like a keening cry.

As he looked on at his hands, feeling faint, lightheaded, Donghyuck’s other hand came forward. He dragged his finger down one of the protrusions, slow, hesitant. Mark froze, as Donghyuck’s index finger trailed down all the way to the base of the protrusion. As Donghyuck slowed and, with utmost care, felt the inflamed, pinky, scarred skin around it.

It was that touch, the care with which he’d done it, the unexpected gentleness, that prompted Mark to unfreeze. He tore his hand away from Donghyuck’s, and twisted, dislodging Donghyuck’s hand from his shoulder. He gritted his teeth and swallowed the cry that threatened itself as the protrusions extended further and further, undoing the quick healing his skin had undergone.

“Don’t fucking touch me, freak!” Mark yelled, shattering the tentative stalemate that had settled when Donghyuck had lain his hand on Mark’s shoulder.

Donghyuck’s face hardened, became unreadable. He drew up, jutting his chin out. He looked down his nose at Mark as if, even now, despite the bones growing out from his hands, he was still beneath Donghyuck’s notice.

Donghyuck snorted, cruel and humorless, “Really? I’m the freak? Take a look in the mirror, asshole.”

Mark didn’t know what came over him, some kind of reversion, some animalistic instinct taking over. But he looked on Donghyuck’s impassive face, his curled lip, and Mark snarled. He growled like some kind of inhuman beast, instinctively raising his hand in a fist, conscious of the long protrusions, angling so they wouldn't knock into the sink as he raised his hand high.

Something flickered in Donghyuck’s eyes, like flame, like fire. The sight of it arrested Mark, as he peered closer, wondering if the dual flickering lights he saw in Donghyuck’s eyes were just another symptom of him losing his mind.

Then, the bell rang, signalling the end of the period. Donghyuck blinked, and when he opened his eyes, the flickering look was gone. Vanished, and Mark was left surer than ever that he was losing it.

Spell apparently broken in the wake of the bell, Donghyuck laughed. He choked out a sharp peal of laughter, then shifted, and spun on his heel. He didn’t even bother keeping an eye on Mark as he walked back to the bathroom door, showing just how little intimidated he was by Mark and his odd, sharp protrustions.

Mark watched, wide eyed, as Donghyuck paused at the door. He stilled, with his hand on the handle, then looked over his shoulder.

“I don’t give the slightest shit about you, but it’d be bad for me if you were caught prancing around with those claws of yours. Try and calm down,” Donghyuck shook his head, dismissive, and Mark was filled with anger, “if you’re even capable of doing that. That might take care of them.”

Then, before Mark could so much as form a response, Donghyuck slipped out of the room. The bathroom door was open for just a split second, just long enough for the sounds of conversation, of laughter, of screaming of students streaming into the halls to be audible. Mark took one quick glance down at the bony protrusions-- the claws, as Donghyuck had called them-- and moved to hide out in a bathroom stall.

He slid his eyes shut, blocked out the background noise as best he could. it was hard. For some inexplicable reason, his senses felt overloaded. Everyone outside the bathroom sounded as though they were shouting. Every awful smell, every whiff of cologne or perfume was heightened, prickling his nose. Mark pushed those thoughts aside. He didn’t like Donghyuck, not in the slightest, but right then, Donghyuck’s advice was all he had to go off of.

So Mark took a deep breath, and started the slow process of calming himself. It took minutes, but eventually his breathing evened out, his chest stopped heaving. And, even later, the claws started to diminish, sliding back into his hands, sheathing in his skin. As Mark watched with something like nausea encroaching upon him, he had to give it to Donghyuck. Calming himself down had helped.

Mark only convinced himself to emerge from the bathroom stall when Lucas texted him asking where he’d gone, whether he’d ducked out from school without Lucas. Like Mark had ever skipped school, even with Lucas. Mark huffed a shaky laugh, as he walked out of the bathroom.

He typed a response, wondering slightly at how normal his hands looked. No weird lines, no claws. The spaces between his knuckles had healed completely over, barely the faintest hint of slightly paler skin where the claws had burst through. Even as he walked to meet up with Lucas in their school’s library, the paler skin darkened, faded, became completely indistinguishable from the rest of his hand.

Mark tried to recall what Donghyuck had called it-- healing factor? Or, Mark shook his head, wry grin spreading across his lips, maybe he’d imagined the whole encounter. That might be it. Senior year breakdowns weren’t that rare.

Mark’s had just been a little more vivid than he could have anticipated. And he had no idea why his hallucinated breakdown had included the strange boy at the back of the classroom. He rarely thought about him, if at all. He’d had no reason to think him up at his most vulnerable.

Mark tried to shunt those thoughts aside, as every seemingly plausible explanation only brought up more questions. He smiled a shaky grin, as he walked into the library and spotted Lucas. Lucas waved cheerily, hefting up Mark’s backpack.

“Baby, what happened?” He asked, as Mark slid into the seat by him. “You, like, booked it outta there.”

Lucas immediately, unhesitatingly, seized Mark’s hand. Mark froze, for a moment, as he watched Lucas’s fingers slide through his, curl over his knuckles, covering the spots where Mark had seen claws tear through not even half an hour prior. Had imagined he’d seen. Whatever.

“I--,” Mark couldn’t think, not as two images flashed in front of his eyes. One, his hand with bloodied claws extended. The other, Lucas’s hand curled over his.

“You couldn’t stand listening to Jones talk chemicals for another second, right?” Lucas asked, laughing. Mark seized upon the excuse, nodding, feeling grateful.

“Yeah,” Mark agreed, though his voice shook. It was okay, he thought. Lucas wouldn’t notice, “That’s it.”

“Sucks. I was hoping to copy off you,” Lucas smiled after, to show he was joking.

Only half joking, anyways, because Mark had little doubt that Lucas hadn’t been paying attention, and that Mark would probably end up helping him go over what Jones had talked about in class the night before their next exam.

Mark opened his mouth, to say he’d gotten half the period’s notes, that Lucas could copy those down at least.

But instead of those words, a question came from his mouth.

“Did that Donghyuck kid ditch the rest of class too?”

Mark ducked his head, as he asked. He didn’t know why he’d let the question escape him-- only that, if Lucas confirmed that Donghyuck had left just after him, it meant that maybe Mark hadn’t imagined the whole scene in the bathroom. The claws, the flames in Donghyuck’s eyes.

“Donghyuck…?” Lucas’s brows lowered in his confusion.

“Orange hair,” gaze like fire, Mark choked off, “Uh, about my height.”

“Oh,” Lucas’s eyes brightened in recognition, “Freakshow! Yeah, he ran out right after you.”

Lucas shrugged, not noticing Mark’s sudden paralysis.

Freakshow. Mark had called Donghyuck a freak, and Donghyuck had rightly pointed out that real freak was Mark. He hadn’t imagined the events in the men’s room after all. Mark’s palms suddenly felt sweaty, hot and cold all at once. He had fucking claws. Bloody, bony, claws.

“Now accepting bets on if that dude shows up to school at all tomorrow,” Lucas snorted, “Maybe he’s finally following the rest of his loser squads’ leads and vanishing.”

It was a fair enough speculation, from Lucas. Mark’s mind, half occupied with thoughts of fiery eyes and painful protrusions, only vaguely remembered the group of boys Donghyuck used to hang around with. There’d been a few of them, then, one by one, they’d stopped showing up to school. One by one, they’d disappeared. Since the start of senior year, only Donghyuck had remained.

But Mark shook his head.

“He’s not going to vanish.”

Mark turned he and Lucas’ intertwined hands over so he wouldn’t have to stare at his own knuckles any moment longer. Not when he knew what lay between them, and the very thought sickened him.

“What makes you so sure?”

There was that preternatural note of amusement in Lucas’s tone, the one that always made it so hard for Mark to discern whether he was joking or not. Mark decided, this time, to accept his question on face value. But he couldn’t very well answer that he knew Donghyuck hadn’t up and vanished because Donghyuck had been in the bathroom with him, talking to him about claws and healing factors.

“Just a hunch.”

The rest of the school day passed normally enough. Lucas regaled their lunch table with the story of Mark racing from science class to escape another second of lecture, to uproarious laughter. Mark laughed along, politely, lying to himself and telling himself he wasn’t scanning the cafeteria for a glimpse of faded orange hair.

But he didn’t see Donghyuck throughout the rest of the day, no matter how hard he searched. And everytime his pulse beat faster, everytime his breaths came quicker, Mark forcibly reminded himself to stay calm. Donghyuck’s voice, low, came to him, as the claws pressed up against the skin between his knuckles.

“Breathe, Mark,” Mark whispered to himself, as he paused in between one class and the next.

The rest of the students flowing around him as easily as water around a rock in a stream. He inhaled, exhaled, and it was only when he regained a semblance of calm that the pressure pushing up against his skin recede.

It felt like some sort of cosmic joke, how the day ended just like any other when it had started off so earth shattering. Lucas kissed Mark on the forehead, as he always did, before bidding him goodbye. They split up, Mark headed towards the soccer fields, and Lucas headed towards the gym. Mark tried to remember the last time he’d felt anything other than excitement at the prospect of getting to spend another couple hours playing soccer.

But with exercise came an accelerated heartbeat, and with an accelerated heartbeat came the pressure up against his skin. His claws-- Mark felt a spike of panic, as he thought about the bony protrusions in those terms, with that word-- his claws wanted to burst out again, wanted to split through his skin and extend all the way out.

Mark didn’t know what to think, as he started to lead his team through warm up drills and, even as the best players started to breathe heavier, started to slow, he didn’t feel an ounce of exhaustion. He felt just as fine as he had when he’d started practice. Every sprint felt like a stroll. It took fifty push-ups for him to feel the strain he would have felt with just one, normally.

Maybe it was some delayed response to his freakout in the bathroom, Mark thought, desperately. Maybe it was some late adrenaline rush, maybe that’s why he wasn’t even breaking a sweat when the rest of his teammates were collapsing, prone onto the field, after another exhaustive drill.

Maybe, Mark thought, as he ripped open a ball bag and drew one out, that was all bullshit and nothing made sense. The only one who seemed to know the slightest thing about what was going wrong with him, Mark thought, was Donghyuck. He hadn’t even freaked out at the sight of Mark’s claws.

With a sinking heart, Mark realized that Donghyuck had actually been kind of helpful. Up until Mark had snapped at him, anyways. Mark wondered if he’d ruined his only chance at understanding what was happening to him, why he was sprouting claws and healing over cuts in a matter of seconds. Why he’d run a mile and felt like he could still run a hundred more.

Mark lined up a ball, backed up, and waited until he received a go-ahead nod from his keeper. He took a step forward, then another, gaining momentum. Mark planted his foot, and kicked out with the other. When his cleat connected with the ball, Mark could tell in an instant that something had gone wrong.

“Minho!” Mark shouted towards his keeper, before his foot had even landed back onto the field, “Dodge it!”

Minho, conditioned over the years, obeyed Mark’s command without thinking. He leapt to the side, out of the path of the ball Mark had kicked. And just in time, too, as the ball rocketed forward, dead on target, before bursting clean through the back of the net. It tore a hole in the netting, and kept on sailing, straight into the uncleared trees beyond the edge of the field.

Minho, still on the ground, looked from the ripped area at the back of the net, to Mark. He had an expression of disbelief, of confusion but, primarily, one of fear.

“What the fuck?” Minho asked and, though he’d nearly whispered it, the words travelled.

The entire team had gone silent. Mark looked around-- all of his teammates were looking at him with expressions like Minho’s. Confused, afraid.

“I-- I don’t know what--,” Mark shook his head. He looked at Minho, still worried. He’d nearly kicked that ball directly at his face. What would it have done to him if it had connected and hit him, Mark wondered.

“I’m sorry,” He said, begging his teammates to see how much he meant it, “I wasn't trying to--”

“What’s wrong with you?”

The horrified question came from another senior, a boy Mark had practiced with from the start. He had carpooled with him from junior varsity games on, before they’d even gotten their licenses.

“I don’t know,” That, at least, Mark could answer truthfully.

He didn’t know, and he needed to find out, before he accidentally hurt someone. He needed to talk to Donghyuck.

“I’m sorry. I’ve gotta go. Keep running through the drills coach texted out to us. Minho, you lead cool down.”

Mark left, shaking. He nearly ran in his haste to remove himself from their fearful eyes. The claws were pressing up against his skin, insistent. Before he’d even stepped off the field, they’d burst through, between his knuckles. Sharpened, extending.

Mark blinked, hard, to clear the tears welling up in his eyes. He crossed his arms and wrapped his hands around his torso. Even as the claws extended, and scraped the bare skin of his biceps, he bit his lip to bury his pained gasps. He couldn’t let his teammates see, couldn’t let them hear, couldn’t let them know.

“Breathe,” Mark reminded himself.

He winced, as one of the claws poked through his shirt, punctured his midriff. He paused, to draw his hands from his sides, to pull the claw out from his skin.

“Fucking shit.”

Mark ducked behind the bleachers, to hide himself completely from his teammates. He lifted up his shirt and watched, feeling ill, as pale skin knitted over the small slit in his stomach. Closing over, sealing the gap. His skin was healing itself in seconds before his eyes.

Mark raised his shaking fingers, and touched the place where he’d wounded himself. It felt no different from the rest of the skin around, and he hated it. He hated how the blood was still wet and slick around the wound but the cut itself was already gone. He was so fucking tired, so fucking exhausted of the weird shit that kept happening to him. Because of him. Nothing about his own body made sense, nothing about the world made sense.

Frustrated, lost, Mark let out a strangled yell and, on impulse, lashed out. He curled his hands over into a fist and slashed his claws up against the nearest object. He blinked, feeling even sicker, as he watched a chunk of the metal bleacher stands slide out. His claws had sliced clean through the thick support beam.

Mark stared down at the metal, its edges shiny enough to make him squint with the afternoon sun glinting off them. His chest heaved, as he looked up at the damage he’d left behind on the bleachers. Mark choked as he inhaled, as he felt the claws sliding back into his hands.

He staggered off, away from the pitch, one thought repeating itself over and over in his head. What’s wrong with me?

“Mark, baby, there’s some pretty weird rumors going around about you,” Lucas nuzzled into Mark’s hair.

Mark’s nose prickled-- he could smell the scent of Lucas’ bodywash, his cologne, even the lavender-scented laundry soap he knew Lucas’s father had only picked up because it was discounted. It was both comforting and overwhelming all at once, to be able to pick up Lucas’s scent so strongly.

“Oh. What are people saying?” Mark deflected.

His voice was trembling, but Lucas wouldn’t pick up on it. Mark reached into his locker for his science textbook and shoved it into his bag. He was already anticipating seeing Donghyuck again, cornering him. He was sure that Donghyuck somehow knew what was happening to him. He latched onto the idea that someone out there could explain his claws.

“That you freaked out at your practice yesterday.”

Mark’s blood ran cold. He hadn’t known what he’d been expecting, why he’d even hoped he could keep that moment from Lucas. Lucas was friends with everyone. One of his teammates had probably texted Lucas the moment he had bolted from the field.

“You went berserk or something,” Lucas continued, drawing back from Mark, but not before pressing a kiss to his temple, “Don’t get me wrong. It’s totally hot that you have a wild side. But why am I just now finding out about it?”

Mark laughed, the sound of it tinny and artificial to his own ears. He hoped Lucas wouldn’t pick up on it. It was hard to find Lucas’s funny when Mark didn’t have a clue what was happening to him, why he suddenly had a wild side to begin with.

“Sorry to disappoint, but I’m not sure I’m that wild,” Mark paused, as Lucas stepped forward to open the classroom door for him, “You know how people are. They exaggerate.”

Mark stepped into the classroom-- and let out a breath of relief he hadn’t known he was holding. He’d spotted a head of orange hair at the back corner of the classroom.

Donghyuck’s eyes met Mark’s across the room. Mark froze, feeling paralyzed by his gaze. They held eye contact for the span of a couple heartbeats. Mark saw something in Donghyuck’s eye, that aberrant flicker, the flame-like light.

Then, Donghyuck’s eyes slid from his. He turned away, directed his gaze out the classroom window, the barest frown twisting the corners of his lips down. Mark felt almost disappointed. He couldn’t explain why. But his relief at spotting Donghyuck remained. He resolved that he’d catch him, before the end of the day. He’d ask Donghyuck what he thought was going wrong with Mark, and whether Mark could find a way to fix it.

“You’re right, they’ll always make a big deal out of anything we do,” Lucas’s hand, broad and comforting, landed on the nape of Mark’s neck. Mark gasped, as Lucas squeezed, “So let’s not give them too much to talk about, ‘kay?”

Mark could only nod at Lucas, in response. He had the broadest grin on his face, the brightest smile. Mark felt uneasy, because he couldn’t promise he wouldn’t run off again the exact moment his heartbeat picked up and his claws threatened to come out.

He couldn’t promise not to make a scene. And he knew just how disappointed Lucas would be, to hear his uncertainty. So he couldn’t voice it. He could only nod in vague agreement, and slide into his chair, and wait for class to start, feeling small and powerless.

Mark managed to make it through the entire period without his claws bursting out, so he considered that a plus. He’d also managed to come of the classroom with a detention slip for skipping class the day prior, but he’d take the bad with the good.

Mark brightened further as he came to a realization. Since Donghyuck had gotten in trouble for skipping class too, there was no way Mark would have trouble talking to him. He’d have a whole hour after school to convince Donghyuck to help him.

“Who are you and what have you done with Mark Lee?” Lucas asked.

He snatched Mark’s detention slip from his hands as Mark left the classroom. Lucas laughed, as Mark reached up high onto the tips of his toes to try and recapture it from him.

“Defacing school property, truancy,” Lucas adopted a scolding tone, “What’s next?”

“Murder, if you don’t give that back,” Mark scowled.

He pushed up off the ground in one final bid to get the slip back, miscalculating his own strength. Instead of the inch he’d meant to jump, Mark nearly leapt, as he finally wrested the slip from Lucas’s raised hand.

Mark wobbled, as he landed back on the ground, his sneakers squeaking. Lucas reached out to stabilize him, his eyes wide. He looked on at Mark with surprise, and something else Mark couldn’t quite identify.

“Shit. We need you on the basketball team-- I didn’t know you could jump like that.”

Mark’s cheeks warmed, as a blush started to bloom across them. He hadn’t known he could either. He was saved from having to compose some excuse by a snort at his back.

Mark spun around, to find Donghyuck pushing himself off from the classroom doorframe, his arms falling from where they’d been crossed over his chest. Mark’s cheeks went even hotter, burning. He wondered how long Donghyuck had been listening in on he and Lucas’s conversation, how much he had overheard.

“What the hell do you think you’re laughing at?” Lucas asked, his face shifting.

Mark rarely saw Lucas get truly angry. The few times he’d seen it in person, from the bleachers, during a game, he’d been startled at the universal reaction it garnered from the players on the other team. When Lucas drew himself up to his full height and glared down, it was enough to make anyone stand down, run away with their tail in between their legs.

But Donghyuck-- Donghyuck, who couldn’t have been taller than Mark, who probably couldn’t tip the scale at one hundred and thirty pounds soaking wet-- only smirked. His crooked grin grew wider, as he stared up at Lucas.

Mark wondered if he should intervene. No matter how cocky Donghyuck was acting, he had to be terrified. Lucas would never actually do anything to him, he’d only glare menacingly, but Donghyuck had no way of knowing that. Mark turned to Lucas, about to ask him to ignore Donghyuck, to leave it, when Donghyuck opened his mouth.

“Sorry,” Donghyuck drawled, not sounding it at all, “I was just thinking about how surprised you’d be, if you realized just how much you didn’t know about Mark.”

It was all Mark could do to keep from reacting. As indignation and panic alike seized him, a growl reverberated in the back of his throat, threatening to spill out. Donghyuck had no right, as far as he was concerned, no right to let Lucas know. Not when Mark barely had any idea what he was going through himself. Mark flexed his fingers, curling and uncurling them, feeling the claws begin to push their way out. Through sinew and bone.

Donghyuck’s eyes flicked down, from Lucas, to Mark’s hands-- and something other than a smug, self satisfied smirk crossed his face. It was gone in an instant, before Mark could identify it, and then Donghyuck was laughing, loud and bitter.

“Whatever. Ask him to fill you in sometime. I don’t give a shit.”

Then, Donghyuck stuck his hands in his pockets, and started to stroll away down the school hall. It was only at the sight of him walking away that Mark was able to feel the insistent pressure of the tips of his claws against his skin decrease.

“That kid is so fucking weird,” Lucas muttered, frowning. He turned to Mark, brows lowered, “You have any idea what he was talking about?”

“No,” Mark shook his head, watching Donghyuck’s slumped shoulders as he shuffled away. He looked impossibly small amidst the wide, empty hallway. “Not a clue.”

It was all Mark could do to keep his cool as he sat in the silent classroom that served as their detention room. The only sound in the room was the ticking of the clock, the faint but discernible beat of Donghyuck’s heart, and the reedy breathing of the teacher up at the front of the classroom. Mark was waiting for him to nod off. He could feel it coming from the slowing, deepening of every breath he took.

Mark still couldn’t work out why he could hear his teacher’s breath, or Donghyuck’s heartbeat. It should have been impossible-- and that impossibility scared him, stressed him. He had to remind himself to breathe evenly. He tried to pace his inhalations and exhalations, matching them with the steady rhythm of Donghyuck’s heart, for lack a better guide.

Mark let out a breath of relief, as their teacher’s eyes finally closed and his head slumped back, as he fell asleep.

Mark turned to Donghyuck, only to find Donghyuck was already looking at him. Glaring, his eyes narrowed and his lips set in a thin line. Mark didn’t know what he’d done to make Donghyuck hate him so fervently, but Mark had to admit to himself that calling him a freak couldn’t have helped matters. Donghyuck’s antipathy towards him only seemed more secure than ever.

Mark’s heart sunk. Donghyuck was the only one who could help him, and Donghyuck hated him.

Mark dropped his gaze, to his notebook. He flipped the page, turning it over to a blank sheet, and jotted down the note he had been mentally composing since the start of the period.

can we talk about what happened yesterday?

Mark tore out the corner of the page he’d written the note on and passed it over to Donghyuck, keeping watch on their teacher out of the corner of his eye all the while. Donghyuck’s brows lowered further as he read Mark’s note.

Donghyuck looked up at Mark and made a face. Holding Mark’s gaze, unwavering, he curled his fingers into a fist and crumpled the note. He rolled his eyes, dropped the wadded note in his bag, and turned back to his work laid out in front of him.

Mark couldn’t help the small sigh that escaped him. He wrote another note, just a single word -- please -- and again tore it out and passed it on. He tossed it so it landed by Donghyuck’s elbow.

Donghyuck looked down at the note. He picked it up, held it almost gingerly between his thumb and forefinger. Then, the strangest thing happened. Donghyuck’s fingers burst into flame.

Mark’s breath hitched, as the flames enveloped Donghyuck’s thumb and finger. They licked up, catching onto the note, but travelled no further on Donghyuck than the tips of his fingers. Donghyuck wasn’t panicking in the slightest. Rather, he was grinning, smirking. He seemed to be enjoying Mark’s shock.

Mark’s note burned. It singed first at the edges, then the flames travelled all the way in, erasing the word scrawled at the center last, turning the paper to ashes. The blackened dust fell onto Donghyuck’s desk.

When the note was completely incinerated, Donghyuck looked back up and caught Mark’s gaze. His eyes seemed to carry on the flames that had enveloped his fingers, flickering as he stared at Mark. Mark felt lightheaded.

He could still smell the scent of burnt paper. Still smell the warm, crackling smell of fire that hung in the air around Donghyuck. He could still see the ashes on Donghyuck’s hoodie sleeve, and scattered across his desk.

‘ Fuck off’ Donghyuck mouthed, the words so clearly enunciated as to be unmistakeable for anything else.

Right, Mark thought. He had claws, and the jerk who sat at the back of the classroom could burst into flames. Why not?

Mark felt a guilty sense of relief that detention allowed him a way to evade soccer practice. He had another day away from his teammates’ curious, fearful eyes. It was cowardly, but he couldn’t help but be thankful for it. He was their captain, he’d had a hand in coaxing the best out of the team, and all it took was one broken net to make that all come crashing down.

Mark snuck another glance at Donghyuck as they packed their books into their bags in silence. He kept thinking of the flames that had burst forth from his hand. He’d wondered the rest of the period if that was all Donghyuck could do, or if he was hiding other abilities.

Donghyuck swept from the room while Mark was still contemplating how he’d word the question, and Mark had to chase after him.

“Donghyuck,” he started, once he’d dashed out into the hall, almost surprising himself.

He’d been thinking of Donghyuck by his name for awhile, but he was sure this was the first time he had actually said it, aloud. Donghyuck paused, his shoulders hiking up nearly to his ears.

“What?” Donghyuck replied, looking over his shoulder. Mark blinked. He hadn’t actually expected Donghyuck to stop for him. He had no idea what to say, where to go from here.

“You’re-- you can light yourself on fi--,”

“Jesus,” Donghyuck hissed, turning on his heel, marching back towards Mark, “Tell the whole school, why don’t you?”

“I’m sorry,” Mark apologized, meekly. He heard the teacher who had hosted their detention shuffling papers in his classroom, none the wiser of the conversation taking place just outside his door.

“It’s-- whatever,” Donghyuck said, gruffly. He seemed at odds, unable to maintain eye contact with Mark when he wasn’t glaring at him, “I can, by the way. And more.”

Donghyuck looked up at Mark, his eyes flickering. For a moment, he looked almost shy, “I can do way more than that.”

“Oh,” Mark breathed, “wow.”

Mark wondered what ‘way more’ extended to, though. How big the flames Donghyuck could create could get.

“Yeah. Not to brag or anything,” Donghyuck seemed to settle back into comfort as he boasted, a wide grin spreading across his face. It was cocky, but it wasn’t the usual smirk Mark had seen on his face up until then, “but my friends all agreed that I have the best control out of all of us. You should see what it looks like when I--.”

“Us?” Mark cut in, faintly.

There were more out there like he and Donghyuck? Were they like Donghyuck, all with the power to burst into flames? Or were they different? Mark wondered if any of Donghyuck’s friends were like him, if any of them had claws too.

Donghyuck’s face blanched.

“Crap,” his glare came back in full force. Mark was getting whiplash, trying to keep up with Donghyuck’s shifting moods, “I didn’t say anything. You didn’t hear anything, got it?”

“Donghyuck, I gotta be honest with you. I’m so confused right now,” Mark said. He was entirely aware that baring himself to a stranger who seemed to loathe him was probably not the best idea. But it was his only idea.

“I’m confused as hell. You can--,” Mark lowered his voice to a whisper, “ burst into flames . I have claws and I can’t stay injured. I can even smell that you had cheese pizza for lunch. Dude, I can’t even begin to understand this shit-- you don’t need to worry. I’m not gonna rat you or your friends out.”

“Oh, thank God,” Donghyuck breathed out. Then, immediately, his eyes widened, “Wait, you can smell what I had for lunch?”

“Yeah, I guess?” Mark, frankly, thought that was the least interesting of all the newfound abilities he’d just listed. He was growing increasingly flustered, frustrated as Donghyuck only filled him with more questions, “My-- my claws can also cut through metal-- is that normal? Can any of your friends do that?”

“Normal?” the panicked expression slid off Donghyuck’s face, as he donned a wry grin, “None of this shit is normal. You’re one of the freaks now, Mark. Get used to it.”

Get used to it , Donghyuck’s bitter tone echoed in Mark’s mind. He raised his hand, curled his fingers into a fist. He didn’t know if he was imagining it, or if he could actually see his claws when he flexed, shifting between the bones on his hand.

“You’re telling me they’re permanent?”

He dreaded Donghyuck’s answer, though he could already see it in the set of his brow, the line of his lips as they pressed together. With a sinking heart, Mark listened as Donghyuck confirmed his fears.

“I think so, yeah. I think they’re a part of you, now,” Donghyuck’s eyes dropped down, and Mark’s hand started to fall. He knew it. If the claws were part of him, then the rest was probably permanent too.

Donghyuck’s eyes snapped up, as if he’d somehow sensed Mark’s precipitously dropping mood, “But don’t go getting any stupid ideas, okay? Don’t try and remove them or anything.”

That only invited a million other questions. Mark hadn’t been planning on doing anything with the claws. He’d hardly accepted them to begin with. But he wondered why Donghyuck sounded as if he was talking from experience, when his freak ability seemed to be centered around flames, and not a physical alteration like Mark.

“I wasn’t--.”

“Good. Don’t,” Donghyuck nodded, like that was that, and he turned. He began to walk away, without even bothering to say any parting words.

It was only the sound of their detention proctor shuffling papers and pens around and faintly coughing in the room nearby that prevented Mark from lashing out again, allowing his frustration to fester and take hold of him. He growled, in the back of his throat, as his fingers twitched. His own violent urges, so new and so alien, scared him.

Just about the only thing he’d gathered from his conversation with Donghyuck was that Donghyuck was keeping hold of enough secrets to make Mark’s head spin, and that he didn’t seem inclined to fill Mark in on any of them any time soon.

Mark sat behind the wheel of his car, hands curled tight around it, as he watched the last few cars pull out of the student lot. The stragglers from club meetings and sports practices, finally finishing up their last efforts, packing up and leaving. Mark wondered how his team had managed in his absence. He’d missed one and a half practices in a row, now. More than he’d missed the rest of the entire season.

Mark wondered how Donghyuck had gotten home. For some reason, he had difficulty envisioning him driving a car. He wondered if Donghyuck was one of those bus kids-- somehow, that seemed to suit him better. If that was the case, if Donghyuck normally took the bus, Mark wondered how he’d gotten home that day after their detention.

Far too late, Mark wondered if he should have offered to drive Donghyuck home. When he thought about it, it was his fault that Donghyuck had gotten detention in the first place. Mark comforted himself with the thought that, even if he had remembered to offer to drive Donghyuck, Donghyuck would have turned him down anyways.

Mark sighed, and started his car. He drove to the lot’s exit, thinking that he should probably make more of an effort to get along with Donghyuck in the future. He and Donghyuck had far more in common than he ever could have guessed. All he needed, he thought, was Donghyuck to realize that.

At the last moment, instead of turning the path that would have taken him to the outskirts of town, to his house, Mark spun the wheel and turned the opposite direction. To the heart of the city. Some instinct was telling him not to go that way, to turn back, go home. But the instinct felt primal, almost animalistic. Mark had never felt anything like it before. He thought that was reason enough to reject it and do the opposite of what it wanted.  

Mark drove all the way to the river than cut through the city’s center before he realized he ought to stop at some point. He parked and picked his way through all the families, all the joggers, all the college students with their kayaks. He walked until he’d wandered far enough away from the more sightly banks of the river.

It was out of reach, cluttered with litter and debris. Mark was sure that no one else would stumble by and interrupt his thoughts. He found a copse, a more densely wooded area, just by the ugly underside of the highway that bridged the north and south sides of the city, and stopped to rest.

He wasn’t tired, of course. He wondered if he’d ever physically exhaust himself again, if his newfound strength and stamina were just as permanent as his claws. Mark knelt down by the river bank and poked through the muddied ground, through styrofoam cups and cigarette butts, to find a suitable rock for skipping. Most of the rocks were gone, picked over by decades of city people coming to the exact same spot for the exact same purpose as him.

Mark found one, at last. He made sure to face a direction without any kayakers, any tour boats. He had no way of predicting how far he could skip the rock. Then, Mark tossed it. The rock skittered across the choppy surface of the water, nearly floating above the river as it crossed it.

Mark raised his hand to shade his eyes from the setting sun’s reflection off the river and squinted. His gaze followed the skipped rock until it disappeared from view, all the way across the river, maybe even to the bank on the opposite side.

“Fuck off,” Mark muttered-- directed at God knows who. Himself, maybe. Whoever made him this way, all of a sudden. He wondered if Donghyuck knew why these strange things were happening to them of all people, or if he was he just as lost as Mark.

Mark heard a slight noise, just the sound of a branch cracking off in the distance, and his entire body tensed. There was no logical reason behind the adrenaline pumping into his veins, coursing through his body, ratcheting up his heartbeat. It was just an inkling, that primal gut feeling he’d sensed earlier. It was telling him that this wasn’t just some innocuous trailwalker headed his way.

Mark inhaled, sharply, then held his breath. He debated a moment, whether to run, whether to hold his ground. Then, he heard a cry. It was strangled, muffled as though the person screaming had screamed into something. If Mark hadn’t had heightened hearing, he might never have picked up on it.

The person who had screamed let out another strangled cry, and Mark sprung into action without a second thought. He didn’t have a plan, a course of action. All he knew was that someone was screaming, and Mark might be the only one around to pick up on it. He reached back, for his phone, as he darted through the trees towards where he thought he’d heard the screams come from.

He dialed in three digits, without hesitation, as he leapt over a tree. The 911 operator picked up, and Mark started speaking in a low tone, as he approached the source of the cries.

“Yeah, hi. I’m calling from the north side of Town River-- I think someone’s getting attacked? I’m near--” Mark looked up, searching for anything to pinpoint their location “-- the highway-- No, that’s all I know. I’m sorry.”

By the time Mark had hung up, his voice was lowered all the way to a barely audible whisper. He was getting closer-- he could see movement amongst the trees. He squinted, and saw two figures-- one crowding another, smaller person up against the trunk of a tree. Mark’s heartbeat went impossibly quicker, as the larger figure leaned in. Their hand was on the smaller figure’s mouth, muffling their screams.

The police weren’t going to make it in time, Mark realized with sickening clarity. Every second was another second when the smaller figure-- a girl in running clothes, probaby just out for an evening jog-- could be injured.

Mark caught the glint of a knife, a brief moment of shine in the otherwise darkened woods. Then, the sharp, metallic tang of blood hit his nostrils, and Mark’s heart nearly stopped. He wondered what the hell he was doing. He had claws. He could use them-- he could help the girl.

He took a deep breath, focused on his knuckles, on the claws pushing up against his skin. And he let them. He stopped struggling, and let his claws slide out, extending to their full length.

All it took was two leaps, two bounds where he hadn’t restrained himself or held back, and Mark was mere feet from the two figures. He could see them clearly now, could discern the wide, frightened eyes of the girl pinned to the tree, her headphones dangling into the dirt below, her clothes muddied and dirtied. He could see the massive back of the broad shouldered man who had her crowded up against the tree.

The man turned, slow, to look at Mark. Mark’s heart hammered against his ribcage, as he raised his shaking fists, claws out.

“Whatcha got in your hands there, boy?” the man asked, his voice amused and aggravated all at once.

He wasn’t taking Mark seriously, not at all. And, as the man raised the blade of his knife, hefting it over his shoulder, Mark realized why. He intended to just make quick work of Mark, dispense of him easily before turning back to the girl.

“Are those some kinda knives or something?” the man asked, as he inched toward Mark, as if Mark was a wild animal he could lull into inaction by simply moving achingly slow.

Mark choked on the air he inhaled, as the man’s knife caught the light of the setting sun.

“What are you doing to her?” he asked the man, his voice tiny, shaky, “Were you hurting her?”

The man laughed, exposing a line of crooked, yellowed teeth, “We were just talkin’. You could leave us to it, boy. Leave now, quietly, and no one has to get hurt.”

The girl whimpered, backing up against the tree, “Please,” she cried, “Get help. He’s got a knife, you can’t--.”

“Shut up!” the man shouted, back at the girl, cutting her cries short. His shout made Mark jump, made him feel shivery, sick.

The man turned back to Mark. He grinned, and Mark had to remind himself to keep breathing.

“Shame. Guess I can’t just let you go, after all.”

Then, the man surged forward. Mark barely had time to react, and even when he did, he knew he’d instantly made the wrong choice. He moved-- either too slow, too quick, he couldn’t have said-- and the man plunged the knife forward at the same time. It sliced clean through the sleeve of Mark’s hoodie, cutting through the fabric as easily as anything. His knife gouged Mark’s skin, left a deep gash in his forearm.

Mark cried out, dropping his guard, grabbing onto the his sliced up arm, like he could do anything to stem the flow of blood coming from it. Mark staggered back, away from the knife’s blade, as the man advanced towards him, his progress slow but sure.

Mark hissed, as he tugged his sleeve up. He bit his lip, hard, hard enough that he was sure he could taste the metallic tang of blood as well as smell it. The gash on his arm was already healing, already growing smaller and smaller, thinning out to a line. It ached like an old wound.

Mark’s eyes snapped up. The man, somehow, hadn’t noticed. Or if he had, he didn’t care. As Mark watched his advance, the man shifted his knife from one hand to the other. In the back, the girl cried, “Watch out!” and then the man was striking forward again.

Mark surrendered to his instincts, not knowing a better alternative. He dodged the man’s attack, ducking quick, out of the blade’s path. Then, he took advantage of the man’s surprise at his rapid reaction, and moved in close, close enough to smell the man’s stench. The man recovered quicker than Mark had dared to hope for. He cursed, bringing the knife up, then plunging it down.

Mark squeezed his eyes shut and, on gut instinct alone, brought his fist up. He felt his claws tear through cloth and skin and sinew and had to swallow the bile that wanted to come up and out from his stomach.

Mark heard something land with a soft thump on the ground, and he cracked open his eyes. Through his slitted gaze, he saw the knife, buried amongst the leaves and dirt and rubbish on the ground. Chest heaving, he moved his eyes up, to the man’s slack face. His mouth was open in an O, his yellowed teeth exposed. His entire weight was propped up on Mark’s fist, skewered by Mark’s claws.

“No. No, no, no,” Mark whispered a litany of denials, as he drew his claws from the man’s body and backed up, watching the man collapse in a motionless heap on the ground.

“No,” he shook his head. He’d just meant to protect the girl. To himself keep from being stabbed again. He hadn’t meant to seriously injure the man.

Mark watched, frozen, as the girl moved forward. She picked forward, her steps rustling the dead leaves on the floor of the woods. Without looking up at Mark, she laid a couple fingers on the man’s neck. The man was completely immobile, his eyes glassy, the front of his coat soaked through and shiny.

“He’s alive,” the girl said, her voice faint, “his heart’s still beating,” she looked up at Mark, her eyes glinting. The tension she was under was clear in the stress lining her face, “You should get out of here.”

“I-- I didn’t mean to,” Mark said, because he had to tell her. He needed to tell someone.

“That doesn’t matter-- just get out of here, okay? You need to be gone before the cops show up.”

Mark ran. He ran as though his life depended on it, he ran until he reached the edge of the wooded area. It was only then that he allowed himself to stop. He rested up against a tree with his eyes closed. Just as long as it took for his racing heart to calm enough for his claws to slide back into his skin. He tore off his blood soaked hoodie (soaked with whose blood?, he wondered. His own? the man he’d nearly murdered?) and balled it up. Then, he left the wooded area and, under cover of the night, stalked past giggling college students and late night runners, shaking as he went back to his car.

When Mark got home, and his mother told him he’d better have a heck of a good reason for missing dinner and not texting them beforehand, Mark only nodded mechanically. He sat down at the dinner table. The stench of sweat and blood still seemed to linger as his mother’s casserole reheated. He looked out at the casserole in its dish, spinning a slow circle in the microwave, his eyes unfocused. Mark thought, vaguely, that maybe the question wasn’t what was wrong with him. That, maybe, he should be questioning if he was even still human.

The slam of a locker door was all the warning Mark had before Lucas was walking forward and wrapping his arms around Mark’s torso, enveloping him in a hug from behind. Mark quickly clicked his phone off, letting the screen go dark. He didn’t want Lucas to catch him scrolling through the news stories of the attack in the park the night prior.

The police had already held a press conference at 6 AM, explaining away the odd nature of the man’s wounds. Their working theory was that he’d been attacked by some kind of animal. The female witness couldn’t remember anything after setting out for her jog and waking up in an ambulance, and the man who was attacked by the animal was still sedated after a night spent in surgery. Once he awoke, the police spokesman had said, they’d be able to confirm or discard their theory.

“So,” Lucas began, cheerily, drawing out the syllable, “how was detention? Was it everything the Breakfast Club promised and more? Did you make friends with all the other little delinquents?”

Mark couldn’t even muster a smile at Lucas’s joke. He shrugged, “Not really. Only other person in there was Donghyuck, so.”

“Oh,” Lucas hissed, probably meant to be in commiseration. He pressed forward, laying a kiss on Mark’s cheek, “Better luck next time, I guess.”

Lucas relinquished Mark, stretching his arms out, yawning. He seemed to notice eventually, as they neared the classroom, that Mark hadn’t responded.

“Kidding! You’re not gonna get detention again, baby. Don’t worry.”

“Right,” Mark finally managed a tinny, canned laugh, “thanks.”

Detention was the least of his worries.

Mark was hardly through the classroom door before Donghyuck was upon him. He knew he wasn’t imagining the dual flames roaring in Donghyuck’s eyes, as Donghyuck snatched the front of Mark’s shirt.

“We need to talk,” he said, low enough for it to be picked up by Mark’s ears alone.

Mark didn’t even bother asking if it could wait until after class. He didn’t feel much like putting up a fight, not today, not with how utterly drained he felt. Mark waved at Lucas as Donghyuck nearly dragged him by the front of his shirt from the room.

His boyfriend’s expression was one of dawning confusion. Mark couldn’t even begin to imagine how he’d approach explaining this situation to Lucas. He couldn’t see how Lucas would react, if he knew what Mark had done last night. Lucas and bloody violence didn’t seem to mesh well but what did Mark know? He also hadn’t thought he and bloody violence would go well together a week prior.

Donghyuck shoved Mark through the door of the men’s room, into the bathroom. He stood at the door, as it closed shut behind him. His chest was heaving, and fire blazed in his eyes. The bell signalling the start of the school day rang out, as they stared at each other.

Finally, Donghyuck broke the silence.

“Anyone ever tell you that you’re a fucking idiot?”

Mark blinked. He didn’t respond, he knew Donghyuck wasn’t actually looking for an answer. Donghyuck huffed a humorless laugh, ran his hand through his hair. Mark didn’t know if it was a trick of the light or his lack of sleep coming back to bite him, but he thought he could see something like smoke coming off of Donghyuck’s shoulders, rising high, giving the air a haze.

“If they haven’t they should. I didn’t think I needed to spell things out for you, but maybe you’re even more of an imbecile than I thought you were. I thought you would’ve understood that it’s really in everyone’s best interests if you lay low.”

Mark sniffed the air. No, he definitely wasn’t imagining the smoke rising off from Donghyuck.

“I wasn’t-- I wasn’t trying to get attention,” he tried to explain, but it didn’t seem to assuage Donghyuck’s anger. The acrid scent of smoke lay in the room, thick, cloying, making it difficult to breathe.

“What part of freaking out and attacking a man seems like laying low to you, Mark? God, I really should’ve known that the first thing you’d do after getting powers would be to show them off, make a scene.”

“That’s not what I was doing,” Mark snarled. He was operating on two hours of stolen sleep, and Donghyuck was accusing him of glory-seeking, “The man was attacking someone. I was just trying to stop him from hurting her.”

Mark didn’t know what Donghyuck was going on about, why Donghyuck would have thought about how Mark would act at all in the event he obtained ‘powers’. But Donghyuck didn’t know him near as well as he thought he did. Donghyuck seemed to think he had him all figured out, just like every other student who whispered behind his back in the entire school.

Mark gradually became aware that the smoke in the room was dissipating, that Donghyuck had stilled, was staring at Mark wide-eyed, as if seeing him anew. The only sounds in the room were Donghyuck’s breaths, coming quick and sharp, and Mark’s own. But, underneath that, a low, vibrating growl.

“Stop doing that,” Donghyuck said, shaky, all the anger and bitterness gone from his tone. In their place, not fear, but something Mark couldn’t identify.

And that’s when Mark realized why the growl sounded so close, so imminent. It was coming from him. He cut himself off, letting out a noise not unlike a whimper.

Mark hated it, because he never used to make any kind of sounds like that, not before the claws had appeared. He didn’t know why they were so instinctual to him, why his anger resulted in inhuman sounds.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, surprising himself by just how much he meant it.

“It’s okay,” Donghyuck exhaled, stumbling a bit over the words, “I’m, uh. I’m sorry too. I didn’t piece together that you might have been protecting someone. I just assumed..,” Donghyuck cut himself off.

Mark felt uneasy. Donghyuck and he had both apologized to each other. They were speaking civilly. This was entirely new terrain, and he couldn’t quite figure out where to step next to maintain his balance on the unfamiliar ground.

The faint squeaks of a couple pairs of sneakers on tile was the only warning Mark had before the bathroom door cracked open. His nostrils flared, filled with the smell of smoke, and he moved on instinct, grabbing Donghyuck’s shirt and dragging him into a stall.

“What are you--?”

Donghyuck couldn’t even get out his question, before the bathroom door creaked open. Donghyuck lowered his wide eyes as he cut himself off. His hair nearly brushed up against Mark’s chin as he angled his head down.

“Man, I think someone was blazing in here,” came a delayed observation from one of the boys who had walked in.

Mark looked down, at Donghyuck. Unexpectedly, Donghyuck didn’t offer up any ironic faces or quick quips. He kept his gaze trained down to the ground. Mark was taken aback to notice that Donghyuck’s cheeks had gone pink, a flush rapidly blooming over the crests of his cheeks. Donghyuck was blushing, Mark realized. He didn’t think he’d ever seen Donghyuck blush before.

“Oh yeah, dude. Fucking wild. It’s only first period.”

Mark held his breath as he listened to their sneakers slide across the bathroom’s tiled floor. Something sharp and sweet filled his nose and Mark thought, at first, that it was coming from the two guys who had just walked in. Belatedly, he realized that the scent was so strong because it was emanating off Donghyuck right in front of him. Amidst the smell of smoke and flames, he picked out peppermint. The crisp sweetness of peppermint.

Mark was oddly taken aback. Had Donghyuck smelled like peppermint this whole time?

“Holy shit. There’s a couple in here. Look! Look at the stall,” It was a hissed whisper, but Mark suspected that even without heightened hearing he could have picked up on it.

His suspicions were confirmed when Donghyuck’s head dropped further. His shoulders hiked up, and he stumbled as far back from Mark as the tiny width of the bathroom stall would allow.

Donghyuck raised his hand. Mark blinked, and suddenly Donghyuck’s entire fist was engulfed in flames.

“I’m gonna burn them,” Donghyuck hissed, low enough that only Mark could have heard. Mark was reminded, with a sensation like a leaden weight landing on his chest, just how much Donghyuck hated him. He was feeling murderous at just the thought of being mistaken as in a couple with Mark.

“Aw, man, they’re totally smoking together. Let’s just use the bathroom in the other hallway.”

“That’s kinda cute though, dude,” the other guy replied, as the door opened and the sounds of their sneakers started to recede, “Why don’t we ever smoke together?”

As soon as the two guys left and the bathroom door closed behind them, Donghyuck pushed the stall open and rushed out. The leaden weight pressed heavier on Mark’s chest. He couldn’t explain why he cared so much, why Donghyuck’s antipathy hurt worse than any random stranger’s.

“We’ve gotta go take care of the man you stuck your claws into,” Donghyuck said, shakily. He was trying to shift into his clinical, quick mode but even Mark could tell it wasn’t taking, “We’re lucky he’s still asleep and hasn’t had a chance to tell the cops anything about you yet.”

Mark nodded, though he wasn’t sure what Donghyuck meant when he said ‘taking care of’ the man. All he knew was that Donghyuck had used the word ‘we’. At least Donghyuck didn’t hate Mark enough to think twice of grouping himself in with him. For that, Mark was grateful.

Mark glanced back in the direction of the science classroom as he followed Donghyuck through the empty halls and out of the school. He should probably text Lucas, he thought. Give him a heads up that Mark might not be back for the rest of the day, if at all. He hoped desperately Lucas would understand, though Mark couldn’t offer him any real explanation.

Once outside the school, Donghyuck drew out his phone and punched in a number.

“Chenle,” he started, brisk. Mark wondered if he should let Donghyuck know that he’d probably be able to hear the person on the other end of the line speaking as well.

Sure enough, Mark caught a high pitched voice call out excitedly “Hyuckie! What’s up?”

Donghyuck hissed and drew the phone away from his ear, and Mark stared with open curiousity. He couldn’t imagine Donghyuck allowing anyone to call him Hyuckie. It was just as difficult to envision as someone actually wanting to call him that. Mark was surprised that there was actually someone out there who thought that it was a suitable nickname for the fiery boy, in every sense of the word.

“I need you up at North Side High. I’ve got something I think you’d be good for.”

“Oh!” the owner of the high pitched voice, Chenle, sounded thrilled, “Really? Okay, I’ll just get Injunnie to take me--.”

“No!” Donghyuck’s strained voice cut in urgently, startling Mark, “No. This needs to be lowkey. Nothing about Renjun is lowkey,” Donghyuck sighed, and ran a hand through his hair again, tugging at the strands. Mark wondered if that was a nervous tic of his. “We’ll pick you up, okay? Just sit tight, work on centering yourself, focus on your walls. We’re gonna be headed to a place with a lot of people. I don’t want you getting overwhelmed.”

“Okay, Hyuckie. See you soon! Oh, this is so exciting. I can’t wait to tell the rest of the guys!”

Donghyuck sighed as he slipped his phone back in his pocket. He looked at Mark, brows lowered. He looked distant, as if his mind was occupied with something far away, “You good to drive? I don’t have my license.”

“Uh,” Mark said, dumbly. He was still trying to process everything that had happened on the phone call, “Yeah, I can drive. Who was that? Chenle-- is he like you and me?”

Donghyuck laughed a wry laugh, as he started off in the direction of the student lot without waiting for Mark.

“In a way, yeah,” Donghyuck looked over his shoulder, smirking at Mark. It did something to Mark’s stomach, that smile. Made something flip over within him. He wondered if he was coming down with something, “In another, he’s a hell of a lot worse.”

Mark’s first thought upon meeting Chenle was that Donghyuck was full of shit. He’d never seen a brighter smile on a person, never seen someone so cheery. Mark was exhausted, sleep deprived. He’d nearly murdered someone the day prior. Even he had to crack a smile when Chenle bounded up to his car, his lilac hair catching the sun’s rays.

“Hi, I’m Chenle!” Chenle’s eyes shifted as he slid into the backseat of Mark’s car, from Mark to Donghyuck, “You’re Mark, right?”

“Uh, yeah,” Mark wondered how he knew. As far as Mark could recall, Donghyuck hadn’t mentioned him over the phone at all. Still, Mark offered his hand, leaning back over the car’s center console, “Nice to meet you. Thanks for helping me out on such a short notice.”

Chenle giggled, as if Mark had told some joke. But he didn’t reach forward and take Mark’s hand.

“Don’t let him touch you,” Donghyuck said, gruff, not even shooting a look over at the two of them.

“...Okay?” Mark slowly withdrew his hand, his brows knitting together. Maybe it was time for him to accept that he’d never find a satisfying answer to his questions when it came to Donghyuck. He’d always be left wondering.

Mark started the car, taking off in the directions Donghyuck dictated to him. Chenle hummed in the backseat, a light, simple tune that Mark felt he recognized but couldn’t quite place. Mark looked up in the car’s rearview mirror, and made eye contact with Chenle. Chenle winked at him, unexpectedly, then ceased humming and turned to Donghyuck.

“Hyuckie, you’re feeling such interesting things right now.”

“Am I?” Donghyuck asked in a flat, sarcastic tone, not looking up from his phone, “Take this right, Mark.”

Mark did as he was told, by his mind was wholly occupied by what Chenle had said. How confidently he’d said it. As if he actually knew what Donghyuck was feeling.

“Yes! Should I list them off? Well, there’s hate, of course. But that’s just the surface, just like a coat of paint. Scratch that paint off and--.”

“Do you ever shut up?” Donghyuck snapped, prompting another light laugh from Chenle.

“Oh! And there’s annoyance. I was wondering when that would show up.”

“You can tell people’s feelings?” Mark hazarded a guess, glancing up and catching Chenle’s eye in the mirror.

It still didn’t explain Donghyuck’s words back at the school, that Chenle was somehow worse than the both of them-- Donghyuck with his flames, and Mark with his claws. But, Mark realized with a sinking heart that, if Chenle did have the power to read emotions, it only confirmed that Donghyuck hated him.

Mark was already well aware of it, but it added to that weight in his chest to hear someone who had the ability to discern feelings say it aloud.

“Among other things,” Chenle sounded thoughtful, “I like your heart, Mark. You’re so simple. Nothing like the mess you’ve got sitting next to you. You’re such a relief, I think I’ll help you out a little, ease your sadness.”

“Watch it,” Donghyuck intoned, a warning. Mark caught movement out of the corner of his eye as Chenle slumped back against his seat. His hand dropped down. Mark hadn’t even realized he’d raised it.

“You’re no fun, Hyuckie,” Chenle whined, “Jeno would have let me.”

“Yeah, well, Jeno’s not here, so you have to listen to me. And it’s not ever gonna be fun to go poking around in people’s heads without their say-so, okay?”

“Ugh. Okay,” Chenle said with a pout, crossing his arms over his chest.

Donghyuck huffed a sigh, but he seemed to leave it at that, because next, he was looking at Mark.

“And what the fuck reason do you have to be sad?”

Mark’s mouth dropped open, but he couldn’t look in shock at Donghyuck. He had to keep his eyes on the road.

Mark had just grown claws and developed heightened seeing, hearing, and smelling out of nowhere. He’d nearly killed a man. He was lost and confused and the one person he thought might understand, the one person he thought might be able to explain everything to him hated him.

Donghyuck scoffed when it became apparent that Mark was incapable of voicing all of his thoughts.

“Whatever. We’re here, anyways. No time to chat.”

Mark looked ahead, and he didn’t even have to squint to see the white, looming walls of the hospital building. Donghyuck had taken them to a hospital. With a queasy feeling mounting in his stomach, Mark thought that there could only be one person they were visiting.

“Chenle, if you start feeling overwhelmed just--.”

“Breathe. Yeah, geez, I know. And you can stop acting like you’re not freaking out. I can feel your worry, remember?”

They had to stop the moment they entered the hospital doors. Chenle’s bright smile was gone, in its place a pained grimace. Mark and Donghyuck exchanged worried looks over the top of his purple head as he sat in a plastic chair, his head between his knees.

Chenle kept insisting he was fine, too. That he just hadn’t been ready for the sheer volume of negative emotions waiting within the hospital. That he’d get used to them in a moment, just give him time.

Mark watched Donghyuck’s gaze dart around the hospital waiting room, looking for anyone that might be glancing a half second too long their way. But everyone was wrapped up in their own worlds. The nurses focused only on their clipboards, their equipment. The patients were occupied with their wounds and ills. No one paid any mind to the three high school aged boys seated quietly in a corner of the waiting room.

A cop walked by them, headed towards the elevators, and Mark held his breath. He wondered if the cop was headed towards the room where they were keeping the man he’d injured, whether there was more than one cop on duty. Most of all, he kept thinking how completely absurd their plan had been. What had they been thinking, that they’d just waltz into the hospital and the injured man would be laid out right in front of them for them to take care of?

Mark felt so small, so young and naive. Most of all, he felt resignation. They wouldn’t be able to pull a miracle off. The man would wake, he’d identify Mark, and Mark would be sent off to juvie. Or, worse, some kind of laboratory, where they’d pick him apart, examine his claws.

Chenle inhaled a deep, shaky breath, his back rising as his lungs expanded. Mark remembered far too late that Chenle could sense his every worry, that Mark was only adding to his overload.

Mark bit his lip, and tried to swallow his fears as easy as swallowing a gulp of air. He tried to think happy, relaxing thoughts. Then, despite Donghyuck’s widening eyes and the panicked shaking of his head, Mark reached forward and laid a hand on Chenle’s shoulder.

He hadn’t known what he’d been expecting, the moment he touched Chenle. But nothing happened, only a hitch as Chenle’s breathing stuttered. Mark slowly rubbed large, soothing circles on Chenle’s back.

He recalled a moment, almost bittersweet now. It was a memory in which he’d felt fully contented and relieved. Junior year, right after a hard fought game that had ended in a shootout which ended up sending their team on past regionals to compete in the state championship. Mark tried to recapture how he’d felt, in that moment, with all of his teammates all cheering and shouting. He tried to pass those positive emotions onto Chenle, tried to envision his overjoyed feeling bleeding out from his hands into Chenle.

Chenle shuddered under Mark’s palm, and Mark paused, concerned that he’d somehow messed up. That he’d miscalculated and managed to worsen Chenle’s burden. Then Chenle’s shoulders started to shake, and he lifted his head. He smiled a small but sure smile up at Mark, and a light laugh escaped from him.

“Thank you,” Chenle said, “For sharing that with me.”

“Yeah, of course,” Mark exhaled automatically, as relief filled him. Mark drew his hand away from Chenle, squeezing his shoulder in one last comforting gesture before releasing him, “It’s no problem. Are you feeling better?”

Chenle nodded, his eyes twinkling above his widening grin, “Yeah, a bit. I think I can try and find your guy now, at least.”

“Oh,” Mark started to grow a matching grin, “that’s good! How are you… I mean… how would you go about doing that?”

“You should probably start with looking for emotions that seem out of place in a hospital. Duty, boredom. Whatever the cops guarding his room are going to be feeling,” Donghyuck spoke quickly. Mark looked up at him, to find that Donghyuck’s brows were knitted together. He looked pensieve.

“Okay. On it,” Chenle nodded, matter of fact. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, exhaling.

Donghyuck looked from Chenle to Mark, his mouth twisted.

“How did you know that would work?” Donghyuck angled away from Chenle, and spoke in a whisper, “How’d you know you wouldn’t lose your own happiness, when you shared it with him?”

Mark blinked.

“I didn’t,” he admitted.

Mark wondered if he wouldn’t have tried to comfort Chenle, had he known the happiness connected with his team’s victory could have been lost to him, sapped from him. He’d like to think he still would have, that his actions wouldn’t have changed at all. He’d hope he wouldn’t have acted selfishly.

Donghyuck opened his mouth, then closed it. He pursed his lips. Eyes flickering with warm light, he looked away, back down to Chenle. Briefly, Mark wished that he had Chenle’s power instead of his claws. That way, he could tell exactly what Donghyuck was feeling.

Using Donghyuck’s idea, Chenle was able to locate the man on the third floor. Donghyuck and Mark watched with bated breath as Chenle walked as casually as could be directly up to the sole police officer standing outside of the man’s hospital room.

Mark felt tense, coiled tight like a spring, ready to leap forward into action if any step of their plan went awry. But everything proceeded exactly as Chenle had said it would.

Mark caught quick movement, as Chenle slipped his hands in close enough to lay no more than a couple fingers on the cop’s arm, as he spoke with the man. Then, as if commanded by some outside force, the cop immediately started walking away from the hospital room. The path was left clear for Chenle to open the door.

Chenle looked back to flash Donghyuck and Mark a thumbs up accompanied by a bright grin, before he slipped into the room through the door. Mark eyed the cop as he passed by he and Donghyuck, his gaze unfocused, his shoes shuffling against the hospital floor. With Mark’s hearing, he was able to pick up a sound like a stomach growling, which only made him more confused. He looked at Donghyuck, but Donghyuck only offered him a shrug.

Mark shivered, as he watched the cop walk away with his shuffling, zombie-like gait. He was finally beginning to understand what Donghyuck had meant, when he warned Mark of Chenle’s abilities.

Only a few seconds eclipsed before Chenle was slipping back out of the man’s room. The busy doctors and nurses passing by were left none the wiser to what had occurred right under their noses. Chenle approached Donghyuck and Mark, at first walking, then increasing to a skip.

When he reached them, Chenle excitedly whispered, “That was so fun! Oh my God. Hyuckie, do you think I’ll get the chance to do this again soon?”

“Uh,” Donghyuck was at a loss for words, for the first time in Mark’s memory, “no promises there, sorry.”

Mark looked at the closed door. He still found it hard to believe that, just beyond it, lay the man who had stabbed him, the man he’d stabbed back.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said, suppressing a shiver. Donghyuck was quick to take him up on his suggestion.

As soon as they walked out of the hospital doors, Chenle filled them in on exactly how he’d made the cop abandon his guard. Then, how he’d made sure the man wouldn’t snitch on Mark. Chenle recounted how he’d executed his plan so excitedly, like it was just a game.

Mark got the feeling Chenle barely grasped how powerful he was. Sure, his empathic ability wasn’t like him, with his claws and healing, or like Dnghyuck with his fire. But Chenle’s power was a different sort altogether.

Chenle had laughed, as he told them how he had made the cop insatiably hungry. He’d made the guy hungry enough to forget his posting, his job.

“For donuts, of course!” Chenle had said, with a giggle.

“Of course,” Donghyuck had sighed, exchanging a look with Mark.

Then, Chenle recounted how he had laid his hands on the man as he slept. He replaced every negative emotion he had towards Mark with positive ones, caring, protective ones.

“You might have a stalker on your hands when he wakes up, but at least he’d never even think of telling the cops about you.”

“Oh,” Mark said, weakly, “great.”

He felt sickened, but he reminded himself that the man had tried to attack a woman, and had tried to kill him. That was how he could justify letting the man’s mind be messed with to save his own skin.

“Lighten up, Mark!” Chenle stretched his arms out behind him. He let out a satisfied sigh, “If anything, I did that jerk a favor. Plus, every time he thinks about you, he’s gonna remember you as a feisty little puppy. A Mark-puppy. That’s so cute!”

Mark thought of his claws, covered in blood, the length of his forearms. He couldn’t really see himself as a harmless puppy.

Donghyuck snorted. Mark shot him a quelling look, and Donghyuck quieted.

“What?” he quirked a brow at Mark, “It kind of suits you, with those big eyes and everything.”

“I’ve literally stabbed a man,” Mark pointed out, aghast, deigning not to focus on the fact that Donghyuck saw him as a puppy.

Chenle crossed his arms in an X over his chest as he walked backwards towards the car, presumably pretending he possessed claws like Mark’s.

“Puppy-boy to the rescue! Dun-dun-dun!”

“Something is seriously wrong with you people,” Mark intoned.

Mark wondered what kind of kids he’d fallen in with, just by virtue of sharing abnormalities. He wondered if they’d started out this way, or if he was fated to become like them.

“You people? Don’t forget you’re one of us now, puppy, whether you like it or not,” Donghyuck snapped, shattering the tentative playful atmosphere.

Mark barely suppressed a tired sigh as he slipped into his car. For every couple steps forward he made with Donghyuck, he seemed to take another step back.

“I know. Trust me. I’m not gonna forget any time soon,” Mark scrubbed a hand over his face, and made eye contact with Chenle as he buckled himself into the backseat. Chenle offered him an unnerving sanguine smile.

“Where to?” Mark asked, giving up, “I’m guessing you don’t want to go back to school.”

“Not particularly, no,” Donghyuck had his arms crossed tight over his chest. He craned his neck to stare out the window, his expression stormy, his eyes fiery, “Just take us back to Chenle’s place.”

Mark thought it best to agree without question. He didn’t want his car to start to fill with smoke.

Donghyuck paused as Mark pulled up to Chenle’s redbrick townhouse. He’d been silent the whole ride back, only speaking up to help Mark navigate, or to interrupt Chenle’s constant stream of one-sided conversation.

“Go on ahead, Chenle, I’ll join you in a bit,” he said, distractedly. Chenle nodded. He bid a cheery goodbye to Mark, then left.

“We’re not going to your house?” Mark asked. He was confused and, if he was being honest with himself, more than a little curious. He wondered what the home of a boy who could burst into flames looked like, what Donghyuck’s parents were like.

“Nope,” Donghyuck said, simply.

Then, he unbuckled and shifted in his seat, turning to face Mark, “Look, Mark. I’ve been thinking and-- I just. I thought that maybe, if I’d offered earlier to help you learn to control your powers we could have avoided this whole thing. You’d never have injured that man.”

“Oh,” Mark didn’t know how to reply to Donghyuck’s unexpected admission. It seemed like this had been something that was weighing on him. There was guilt etched across the lines of his face.

“No, Donghyuck, I don’t think it could’ve been avoided,” Mark said. Though he had no way of being sure of that, he didn’t want Donghyuck feeling guilt over something that he had no responsibility over. The fault lay with Mark, and Mark alone. “Like I said, I was trying to protect somebody. Someone would’ve wound up injured, no matter how well I was able to control my claws.”

Donghyuck’s eyes dropped, to Mark’s hands.

“Did he hurt you?” he asked, out of nowhere.

“What?”

“Mark,” he looked up, into Mark’s eyes, searching for something as he looked at Mark, “You and that man fought. You ended up stabbing him, but did he get to you before that?”

Mark thought of his blood stained hoodie, still wadded up into a ball in his car’s trunk. He flexed his hands on the wheel, feeling the bones in them shift. The claws were still a new presence, still felt like foreign objects implanted within him.

“I don’t get injured the same way I used to. I heal so quick that it... it barely matters if I get hurt.”

Donghyuck’s eyelids slid shut and he slumped back in his seat, letting out a sigh.

“So he did hurt you.”

Mark remained silent. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know why Donghyuck was acting the way he was, if he hated Mark so much. He was acting almost as if he was concerned.

“God. Okay, I can’t promise much in way of self defense, but I can teach you how to control your claws, I think. You won’t have to worry about injuring yourself or anyone else on accident anymore,” Donghyuck extended his hand out to Mark, “Give me your phone. I’ll give you my number. Text me the moment you have a couple hours to spare, got it?”

“Uh, yeah. Got it,” Mark fumbled for his phone, pressed it into Donghyuck’s hand. His skin burned warmer than Mark’s, like a furnace against Mark’s skin. It set the nerve endings on his palm and fingers alight.

Mark glanced at his hand, in wonder. He looked up, at Donghyuck, to see that he was hesitating, his thumbs poised over Mark’s phone screen.

“What is it?” Mark asked. His voice sounded strange.

Donghyuck shook his head, and a small smile played across his lips. It was sheepish, almost humble expression that looked foreign on his features.

“It’s nothing,” Donghyuck said, “Just. I’m giving Mark Lee my number and it's because he needs help learning how to restrain his literal beast claws. It’s a little surreal.”

He looked up at Mark, but something was off in his smile.

“Know what?” Mark grinned, feeling awkward, as he always did whenever anyone acted like he wasn’t just Mark, wasn’t just a person, “This whole claw thing’s been a little surreal for me too.”

Mark’s confession had the desired effect, as Donghyuck choked out a surprised laugh. He pressed in his number and passed Mark’s phone back to him. Their fingers didn’t brush a second time, but Mark couldn’t put the thought of the warmth his touch had left behind, long after Mark had turned the street corner and Chenle’s townhouse had disappeared in the rearview mirror.

Mark didn’t know what it was, whether it was obligation or the warm imprint that sharing his team’s past success with Chenle had left behind. But Mark decided to go back to school to catch what was left of his team’s practice. He quickly changed into his gear and pulled on his cleats, then raced over to the field.

Practice stopped dead when he walked onto the pitch. His teammates all froze in their positions, all their heads turning to him. Mark ignored the creeping feeling of wrongness that set off within him.

He waved and shouted, “Hey. Sorry, I got caught up with something. Is it too late for me to join in?”

For a dreadful moment, no one said anything. None of Mark’s teammates opened their mouths to answer, either yes or no. Then, one junior boy, a new addition to their varsity squad, looked away from Mark, to Minho.

Minho cleared his throat, and a few more boys looked his way, away from Mark.

“Cap-- Mark,” Minho’s self correction hadn’t escaped Mark’s notice, nor anyone else’s. It stung, as much as Mark should have predicted its coming, “Can you kick a ball yet?”

Mark heard a few murmured assents, some of the team breaking their silence to second Minho’s question.

Mark couldn’t deny that he wasn’t even capable of the most essential part of the game. But he’d thought it over on his drive back to the school. If they just gave him time, just a few weeks, he could learn to control himself. He’d learn restraint.

Donghyuck had offered to teach him. If his team gave him time, he’d be able to play with them again. Lead them to regionals, to state. Finally get them the title they’d been denied his entire career on the squad.

“No,” Mark admitted, and the murmurs grew louder, “But I can still run drills with you. I can sit by the sidelines during games, just until I figure things out. Just give me some time,” there was a pitiful note in his voice that he couldn’t remove, as he pleaded.

“What the hell does ‘figure things out’ mean?” another senior Mark had practiced with from freshman year pitched in, his annoyance clear. The stinging ache in Mark’s chest grew more insistent. His heartrate spiked, as he started to feel his claws slowly pushing through his hands, under his skin.

Not now, he thought, desperately, Please. Not now.

“We can’t have a captain who can’t even kick a fucking ball,” Mark heard a voice sneer, at his back.

He turned, trying to locate who it had said it, which familiar face the words had came from. But the boys behind him all wore similar uncomfortable, fearful faces. What were they afraid of, Mark wondered. Were they afraid of him?

“Just take a break, Mark,” Minho said, sounding as though the words took everything within him to say.

“A long one,” someone pitched in, and Mark watched Minho wince.

A couple boys laughed, high and cruel. Mark felt the tips of his claws press up against the skin between his knuckles, insistent, their extension imminent. He took a step back, his heart racing. He was stuck between staying and trying to convince his team to let him stay on and running, hiding before his claws came out.

“Fucking retire, freak,” someone else said, to the laughter of a dozen of his teammates. Mark choked as he inhaled, as his claws broke through his skin, as a trickle of blood dripped down his finger.

He staggered back, stumbling as his cleats moved from the grassy pitch onto the gravelly track that surrounded the field. He had to turn around, to watch his step and hide his extending claws, as he ran. As Mark started to lope away from the field, he caught Minho’s weak shout at his back.

“Sorry, Mark! It’s nothing personal. Really!”

Mark unlocked his phone with shaky fingers. He had to send a message to Donghyuck, had to let him know that his afternoons and weekends looked clear for the foreseeable future. Mark needed to say that he’d really like to get their training on sooner rather than later. He was still holding onto the hope that he could show his team and come back triumphant, his alien strength completely reined in.

But another text gave him pause. A short message from Lucas, preceded by a string of exclamation points, reminding him of their tuxedo fittings the next day. Mark couldn’t even begin to summon up a modicum of the excitement Lucas seemed to have in his own message but he sent a quick reply saying that, yes, he’d be there.

Then, with mounting trepidation and anticipation, Mark texted Donghyuck and asked if he was free the next morning.

Mark showed up to Chenle’s townhouse in the early hours of the morning, as Donghyuck instructed. The sun had only just crept over the tops of the shortest buildings in the area, and Mark was shivering in his workout gear.

He hadn’t known exactly what power training entailed, whether it would be a lot of physical exertion or not. So he’d erred on the side of caution. And he was already regretting it, from the moment he’d rung the townhouse doorbell and Chenle had opened it a moment later.

“Wow, cute outfit,” Chenle’s eyes travelled from up Mark’s sneakers, lingering on his shirt. Mark had known it was a size too small when he’d pulled it from his dresser that morning, and yet he’d still made the mistake of wearing it, “I mean. Your emotional turmoil kinda detracts from the whole ensemble but! Still cute!”

Mark sighed, tugging uselessly at the hem of his shirt, “Thanks, Chenle. Where’s Donghyuck?”

“Oh, he’s still asleep,” Chenle said, cheerily, as he moved aside to let Mark in.

Chenle seemed to be trying to give him a lot of space to navigate around him, but Mark wasn’t worried about Chenle’s accidentally touching him. He brushed by Chenle as he walked through the door.

“You’re shitting me. He told me to get here at nine on the dot. He’s really sleeping?”

Mark was annoyed at being forgotten, but he couldn’t truthfully claim to be shocked. And, if he was being honest with himself, he was more than a little amused. He didn’t mind hanging out with Chenle a little, as he waited for Donghyuck to wake.

Absentmindedly, Mark wondered how often Donghyuck slept over at Chenle’s townhouse if he’d spent the last night there. The two of them seemed to be close.

“Is the doormat clear, Chenle?” a voice shouted, from deep into the house. It didn’t belong to Donghyuck, Mark realized, with dawning confusion.

“Oh my God,” Chenle muttered, accompanied by a roll of his eyes. He prodded Mark to the side, and Mark looked down, to find Chenle had pushed him off a doormat.

“Cover your ears,” Chenle advised, already raising his own hands to his ears.

Mark barely had time to do that before a sound like the crack of a whip broke the air, and a figured appeared in front of him, in the space he’d occupied only moments before. Mark’s hands slid from his ears. His mouth dropped open in shock as he stared at the boy in front of him.

“You’re Mark Lee,” the boy said, which only added to Mark’s confusion. He was feeling faint, lightheaded.

“You’re blue ,” Mark replied, stating what he believed to be the more pertinent observation.

The boy standing in front of him had skin the color of the remote ocean, where the water stretched so deep and so far that nothing could be seen, either within it or around it. His skin was the purest, most vibrant shade of deep blue Mark had ever seen.

The boy grinned, his blindingly white teeth standing out in stark contrast to the rest of him.

“Yeah, I am. I also have a tail. Wanna see?”

The boy spun without waiting for an answer and there, sticking out of a hole cut through the seat of his khakis, was a tail. It was about probably just a little longer than the boy’s legs, and it ended in a flared point, like the tip of an arrow.

“Holy shit, that’s so cool!” Mark enthused, unable to refrain from blurting out in his excitement.

Chenle and Donghyuck didn’t have anything like this blue boy, like Mark. They didn’t have physical alterations, physical signs of their abnormalities. Mark hadn’t known until that exact moment, but he’d been afraid he would be the only one. Looking at the blue boy, at his tail, he was filled with relief.

“Thanks, man,” the blue boy flashed his blinding grin at Mark, before turning to Chenle, “Hyuck didn’t mention his little beastie was Mark Lee, right?”

Mark was starting to get the feeling he was somewhat infamous around Donghyuck’s circle of friends. They all seemed to know him. It left him feeling at odds, because he couldn’t remember ever meeting any of them. He’d think he’d recall a boy with blue skin.

“You can call me Mark,” Mark added, hesitant, “Just Mark. If you want to, I mean.”

“Nice to meet you, Just Mark,” the blue boy’s eyes twinkled. He reached out, and shook Mark’s hand, “I’m Jaemin.”

Mark followed Jaemin and Chenle up the steps from the townhouse’s entryway, to what looked to be the living area beyond. Jaemin leaned in and whispered to him, conspiratorially.

“To be honest, I’m kinda bummed Hyuck’s been keeping you from us.”

“Really?” Mark asked, thinking over the implications of Jaemin’s whispered words.

Donghyuck had to have mentioned him to his friends at some point, though it hadn’t seemed to have been by name. Mark wondered what he’d said, if Mark had only been a passing mention, if he’d just gone ‘there’s a boy in my science class who I despise and, oh, he happens to have claws too’.

“Yeah! I wanna see those claws, man. C’mon, show ‘em off!”

“I haven’t seen them yet, either,” Chenle added, excitedly.

Mark laughed, nervous. He was saved from having to make an excuse not to extend his claws by a drawling voice interrupting from above.

“Who’s that?”

Mark looked up to the ceiling to see that the drawling voice had come from a boy. He was perched on the thin support beam that ran the width of the room. The boy had massive wings. Or maybe he was just tiny, Mark couldn’t have said.

Though his perch atop the beam seemed precarious, he didn’t seem to mind. He had one leg folded up, his chin rested on his knee, and the other dangled off the edge.

His wings, though-- Mark pulled up to stare at them. They were white, and fluffy with feathers. They looked like what artists drew on the backs of their depictions of angels.

“Whoever he is, he’s got a real dumb look on his face.”

The winged boy looked away from Mark, plucked something from a bowl placed in front of him on the support beam, and popped it in his mouth.

“Now, now, Renjun. Play nice,” Jaemin laughed brightly, as Mark’s face heated, a flush rising to his cheeks. It wasn’t every day when a boy that looked like an angel straight from a Renaissance painting said you looked stupid.

“There’s no need to be embarrassed, Mark. Injunnie’s only this rude to people he’s curious about. It just means he’s interested in you,” Chenle said, in what might have been a  soothing voice, aside from the fact that he was exposing Mark’s embarrassment to the entire room.

“What a relief,” Mark said, meekly. He watched Renjun pop another thing from the bowl into his mouth. They might have been strawberries, if Mark was smelling the faint fruity scent correctly.

“Shit, shit, shit!”

A string of panicked curses reached Mark’s ears, moments before Donghyuck skittered out into the room, barefoot, hair an orange bird’s nest, “Why didn’t any of you wake me up-- Oh. Mark.”

Donghyuck froze, as Mark was filled with the first sense of stability since he’d stepped into Chenle’s townhouse. Donghyuck may have hated him, but Mark at least knew him, knew the vague extent of his powers. He didn’t feel so out of place with Donghyuck.

“Hey,” Mark said, starting to smile.

He couldn’t help it. Donghyuck looked so.. different from how he looked at school. He wasn’t wearing his typical hoodie and jeans combo. He was nearly swimming in an oversized t shirt. The slogan on it was faded with time and washes and just barely legible-- a cartoon picture of a t-bone steak, with the words ‘I Survived the Big Texas Challenge’ underneath.

Mark had to guess the oversized shirt was his pajamas. The thought that Donghyuck had run straight from bed, worried, in a rush, made an odd warm feeling bloom within him.

“Hi,” Donghyuck replied, his voice tiny, breathless. Then, his face shifted. His stance changed, and his brows lowered, “Crap. I mean-- hello. Sorry. I overslept.”

“That’s okay,” Mark said. He was too relieved to feel any of the annoyance he’d initially felt, “You’re up now.”

“This show sucks,” Renjun whined, cutting in before Donghyuck could respond.

Then, without warning, Renjun lobbed a strawberry in their general direction. Mark watched its trajectory until it landed with a sad thump on the fluffy carpet almost precisely in between he and Donghyuck.

“I will end you,” Donghyuck hissed up at Renjun.

There was the sudden crackling sound and the acrid scent of smoke in the air that accompanied his flames as his raised fist lit on fire. Watching Donghyuck with his fiery glare, his bare feet, and his hair all over the place only made the warm bloom within Mark grow.

“I’d like to see you try,” Renjun called back down, the sound of feathers rustling as he extended his wings to their full wingspan. The tips of his longest feathers almost brushed up against the living room’s walls.

“Please, if you’re going to fight, I only ask that you keep it outside. Hyuckie, don’t forget what happened last time, with my mother’s tapestries,” Chenle spoke with utmost serenity, as Jaemin laughed, loud and bright.

Mark surveyed the scene with wide eyes, surprising himself at the fondness buoying up in him for so many near-strangers. Without even seeing it coming, he felt the oddest sense of something sliding into place within him.

Red-faced, Donghyuck had told Mark to go to the backyard while he got ready. Chenle pointed Mark towards the back, then let him roam free. Mark was grateful how easily Dnghyuck’s band of friends seemed to trust him, enough to let him wander about their home.

(And was it their home? It sure seemed like they were all exceedingly comfortable at Chenle’s townhouse. Perhaps they were all just a tight group of friends, and they’d all simply slept over the night before.)

Mark wondered whether it was just who they were as people, that led them to trust him so easily, or if Donghyuck had vouched for him. Mark slid open a glass door and walked out into the small yard area at the back of the townhouse. He looked up, and let out a low whistle.

Extending up into the sky, reaching almost the height of the townhouse’s roof, was an intricate aerial garden. Flowers and ivies were woven through a wooden grid that covered the entire yard, shading the grass below. Their blooms were bright and vivid, clearly visible all the way from the back stoop. Mark sniffed, and felt a grin grow on his face. The flowers, warmed by the early morning sun, smelled sweet and fresh.

He only wondered how all of the plants were so well pruned and maintained, wondered if maybe the angel boy, Renjun, had anything to do with it. The garden was so high up and there were no ladders in sight.

Mark heard the door slide open behind him, and smelled the sharp, familiar scent of peppermint as Donghyuck walked up to his side.

“Pretty cool, right?”

Mark glanced over at him. Donghyuck wasn’t looking at the floral grid. Rather, he was staring at Mark, thoughtful. He’d changed from his pajamas into a simple black tank top and shorts. His hair also looked different, as though he’d run a brush through it.

“It’s crazy. I’ve never seen anything like this before,” Mark said, truthfully.

Donghyuck cracked a grin, “Yeah. It’s Jaemin’s baby. That means we have to be extra careful when we’re training, though. I still have nightmares from the last time I accidentally blasted off a section of the garden....”

Donghyuck trailed off, giving an exaggerated shiver. Mark cocked his head, wondering first at Donghyuck’s mention of blasting the flowers. And second, at what Jaemin could have possibly done to make Donghyuck shiver like that.

“Let’s just say I’m not eager for a repeat.”

Donghyuck left it at that, and guided Mark to stand in a spot a few feet in front of the yard’s fence. Mark looked behind him, at the cement slathered over the wood in that section of the fence. There were singe marks, black and sooty on the cement. He turned back to Donghyuck, and gulped, suddenly filled with a mounting sense of trepidation.

“You mentioned blasting things…” he started.

“Oh, yeah,” Donghyuck appeared unbothered, as he angled Mark’s shoulder so it was square with the cemented fence behind him, “I can shoot fireballs. Like, fwoosh. ”

Mark sighed as Donghyuck nudged one of his feet to the side so his stance was wider. He felt more balanced after, more solid. With Donghyuck mere inches from him, the scent of peppermint overwhelmed the sweet floral smell of the flowers overhead.

“I thought you were going to teach me how to control my claws. Why do I feel like you’re going to end up using me as target practice?”

Donghyuck snorted, then drew back from Mark. It was only after he took a step away that Mark realized he could feel the warmth radiating from him, off his bare skin. The warmth was gone, and Mark was left feeling the morning chill that the sun hadn’t yet chased away.

“Please. I don’t need any practice,” Donghyuck’s mouth twisted, and he caught Mark’s eye, “I am going to be shooting fire at you--”
“--What the fuck? Why?”

“So I can stress you out!” Donghyuck explained. His tongue flicked out to wet his lips and he gestured at Mark, “Look, it’s already working.”

Mark couldn’t deny the spike in adrenaline he’d felt the moment Donghyuck revealed his plan. He was conscious of his increasing heartrate, the subtle but sure deepening of his breathing. He could even feel his claws buried deep within his arms and hands, suddenly aware of their presence where he hadn’t been before.

“I won’t actually hit you, okay?” Donghyuck looked up into Mark’s eyes and, for once, there wasn’t a hint of anything other than genuine sincerity. There wasn’t a twinkle from a joke left untold, or a narrowing in advance of an ironic statement, “I promise.”

Mark closed his eyes and, after a moment’s hesitation, he nodded, assenting to Dongyhuck’s plan. He had to admit he could see the logic in it. Even just mentioning shooting fire at him had made Mark freak out. If he saw the blasts coming his way, it’d probably take everything within him not to react, to restrain his claws from extending.

Donghyuck was insane. There was no doubting that. But his crazy plans weren’t nonsense.

With Mark’s agreement, Donghyuck moved to the opposite side of the yard. Mark felt his heartbeat quicken as Donghyuck’s entire right arm burst into flames, from his hand to his shoulder. Mark felt his breaths start to come in shallow and short as Donghyuck raised his hand, as the flames in his palm seemed to gather.

The flames spun together, forming a flickering orange orb that licked out small flames in bursts. It looked like Donghyuck was holding onto a miniscule sun, a star small enough to fit in his palm.

“Shit,” Mark gasped, as Donghyuck drew back his elbow, then whipped his hand forward, shoving the ball with one rapid push in Mark’s direction.

Mark felt his claws burst through his skin in a moment, extending out all the way, ripping a pained hiss from deep within him. He stood there, frozen, claws out, as the baseball-sized ball of flames sailed harmlessly over his shoulder, not even singing his shirt as it passed by him.

He heard the fire ball hit the cement behind him, sizzling as it evaporated whatever morning dew had remained on the surface. Mark’s chest heaved, as he tried to catch his breath. Across the yard, he saw Donghyuck’s shoulders rising and falling with just as much rapidity.

“I’m sorry,” Mark choked out. He raised his hands, his claws, “I panicked.”

“That’s fine,” Donghyuck said, though his brows were drawn down low, his expression worried. Mark felt his heart dip, “I didn’t expect you to be able to hold them back on the first try. Just remember to breathe. In and out, nice and slow.”

Breathing. Right. Mark took a measured inhale. He knew how to breathe, he should be able to do this. It took minutes for his heart rate to slow back down to something approaching his normal pace, though. Whole minutes for his claws to retract.

All the while, Donghyuck talked in a low, even tone, his voice a balm, soothing. Mark knew he wasn’t talking about anything important, knew he was just speaking to fill the space, to calm Mark.

But he still listened to every word, every part of Donghyuck’s stories about Jaemin’s struggles with his inability to find a concealer shade, how rough breakouts were when you were blue. How another friend named Jeno, who Mark hadn’t met yet, had a hard time matching the sunglasses he always had to wear with his shifting fashion tastes.

Finally, once Mark’s claws slid back in, Donghyuck drew back to the opposite side of the yard again. His right arm was enveloped in fire once more.

Even trying to maintain his breathing, even with his heartbeat in mind, Mark couldn’t get his claws under control the second time around. Or the third. After the fourth try, another failure, cracks were even starting to appear in Donghyuck’s facade.

Donghyuck swept his arm across his forehead, shiny with sweat, and said, “This isn’t working.”

Mark’s nostrils flared, his nose filled with the contrasting scents of singed hair and grass and the too-sweet, almost cloying smell of the flowers above. His knuckles were crimson, slick with blood, and the white of his claws could barely be seen beneath the red.

But Mark could barely feel the aches. He didn’t let himself dwell on his torn skin, as it split and healed and split again, not with the adrenaline coursing through his veins.

“I’ll get it next time,” he said, low and vibrating, almost a snarl, “Just give me another chance.”

Mark couldn’t believe Donghyuck was already admitting defeat. Did he have that little faith in Mark’s ability to learn to control himself? Was that it? Mark hated how Donghyuck had only ever seen him unravelled, had only ever seen Mark at his worst.

Mark could prove himself to Donghyuck. He could control himself, restrain his claws. He could prove himself to everyone, to his team. But Donghyuck wasn’t giving him the chance.

Donghyuck sighed, and stepped away, back towards the townhouse. Mark felt an ache, as it felt increasingly like Donghyuck was giving up on him.

“Where are you going?” he growled, goading.

Donghyuck pushed a hand through his hair. He looked tired, worn down.

“I’m getting a first aid kit. You’re covered in blood.”

Mark barked out a short, bitter laugh.

“But I don’t have any wounds. No cuts for you to cover up with a band-aid. Or did you forget that I can’t even stay injured like a normal person?”

Donghyuck’s face hardened. Mark noted the reappearance of the flames, flickering in his gaze.

“Just because they go away quicker doesn’t mean they never happened. I know it still hurts you, Mark.”

But Mark didn’t care about that. He didn’t care if it hurt, could barely feel the aches. And it was so frustrating that Donghyuck didn’t see that. Mark was determined-- he was going to learn how to control himself, he was going to learn how to suppress his claws, he was going to get his life back to the way it was before he had to turn into a freak and mess everything up.

“Stop walking away, Donghyuck. Stop being a fucking coward and get back out here .”

Mark was desperate, saying anything he thought would work to get Donghyuck back out into the yard. For a moment, he thought his ploy worked. Smoke started rising off from Donghyuck. The air seemed to crackle as the flames in his eyes roared up, engulfing his gaze.

Then, Donghyuck took a step back.

“No. I’m not going to help you hurt yourself anymore.”

Mark felt his heart sink, felt the sickening realization that in his desperation, he’d gone too far. He’d lashed out again when Donghyuck was just trying to help him. Mark felt disgusted with himself.

“We’re done for today,” Donghyuck said, his voice small, hollow.

Then he turned away from Mark and slumped back into the townhouse. With every step away from Mark, every increasing space between them, Mark felt surer in the conviction that he’d messed up. He’d hurt Donghyuck, and he couldn’t see how he’d make it up. Not when they were barely civil to begin with.

Donghyuck was gone, vanished by time Mark had managed to get his claws to retract. He shuffled into Chenle’s townhouse, his shame at having gone too far a creeping, crawling feeling that settled over him like a physical sensation. He couldn’t even maintain eye contact with Chenle, as he walked in and spotted him at the kitchen sink.

“Where’s Donghyuck?” Mark asked, directing the words down, at his hands. He’d already guessed the answer before Chenle opened his mouth.

“He went out,” Chenle hesitated.

Mark looked up, and saw that he was filling up a glass of water. Chenle set it down on the counter in front of Mark, not too insistent. Giving him space, Mark realized. He was grateful for it.

“You’re just as ridiculous as he is,” Chenle said, after a moment.

He watched Mark with a lowered brow, as Mark snatched the glass of water and took a big gulp of it. He hadn’t realized how thirsty he was, how exhausted. Suddenly all his exertion caught up to him, and he wanted nothing more than to collapse.

“Thanks,” Mark gasped, after he’d drained the glass. Chenle offered him a small smile and plucked it from his hands, went back to the sink to refill it.

“Mark, you and Hyuckie could be something special together. The both of you just need to stop hating yourselves long enough to realize that.”

Mark didn’t know how to respond to that. He could only blink. He knew why he was frustrated with himself. He thought he was justified in feeling, too. He’d been awful to Donghyuck, he kept lashing out at him. But it didn’t make sense for Chenle to say that Donghyuck had similar feelings towards himself, not when Donghyuck hadn’t done anything to warrant that kind of shame.

“Hey, I’ve got washcloths to clean yourself up with, if you want.”

Someone Mark had never seen before walked into the kitchen, towels in hand. He had on sunglasses with red lenses. Even with his eyes obscured, Mark could tell he was handsome. Mark straightened.

“Jeno?” he guessed, going by the shades.

The guy nodded, a warm smile spreading across his face, “Yeah. Sorry it took me so long to find these, by the way. Chenle’s linens closet leaves a lot to be desired in terms of organization.”

“I have a system! You’re just too dumb to figure it out.”

Without deigning to respond to Chenle’s insult, Jeno walked forward to the sink and wet one of the towels. Mark eyed him, carefully, as Jeno came up to him. For a moment, as Jeno reached forward with the washcloth, Mark thought he was going to try and clean the blood off Mark’s hands for him. Mark’s breath caught, and he snatched the cloth from Jeno’s hand before he had the chance.

He couldn’t discern Jeno’s reaction, not with the sunglasses, so Mark just ducked his head to hide the rising heat in his cheeks. He didn’t know why he’d been so worried to have someone else clean him up, didn’t know why he cared at all.

After he’d dirtied two washcloths cleaning and drying off his blood, Mark made an escape of his own, feeling at odds with himself. He was feeling ridiculous for attaching himself so quickly to Donghyuck and his friends and, moreover, feeling guilty for treating Donghyuck the way he had. He just hoped Donghyuck would give him a chance to apologize.

Mark only had time to dart home for a quick shower before he was meant to meet up with Lucas at the mall and, even then, he was fifteen minutes late. Lucas didn’t care. He lit up when Mark approached him outside the suit shop.

“Baby! What took you so long?”

Mark’s heart stuttered and he said, truthfully, “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

Lucas grinned and he reached forward to open the store door for Mark.

“Try me.”

Mark debated for a moment before settling on telling a half truth. Not a lie, not exactly. But not enough that Lucas would ever even consider he’d just been training to learn how to restrain his claws.

“I was hanging out with Donghyuck, actually.”

“Freakshow? Really?” Lucas asked, in disbelief, before turning to the man working the shop desk and giving him their names. Mark winced.

“I wish you wouldn’t call him that. He’s actually kind of… cool.”

That wasn’t the right word to describe Donghyuck, Mark realized a beat too late. Not at all. He barely restrained a chuckle as he imagined Donghyuck’s reaction to Mark calling him cool. If he’d burst into flames at the indignity of the word.

“You know,” Lucas had a thoughtful expression, as he picked up the two suits proffered by the salesman, as he started towards the store’s fitting rooms, “You’ve been spending a lot of time with him lately.”

Mark frowned.

“Yeah. I guess I have.”

When he thought about it, it seemed Donghyuck had been an almost constant presence in his life, ever since his claws had first appeared, whether physically or just in Mark’s mind.

Lucas went in to the fitting room, then gestured for Mark to follow him. Mark looked back, hesitant, to the single salesman in the shop. He was scrolling through his phone, bored expression on his face. Mark swallowed around his sudden nerves, then slipped into the fitting room.

Lucas was already slipping off his sneakers when Mark pulled the door shut behind him. He looked up at Mark, from his crouch. Lucas’s grin had dimmed, taken on an ironic tinge.

“You skipped school with him, right?”

It sounded weird, when Lucas put it like that. Mark’s frown deepened. He had, strictly speaking, done just that. Skipped school with Donghyuck. But they’d also picked up a purple haired, empathic boy. After that, they’d broken into a hospital and messed with an already deranged man’s mind.

Mark opened his mouth, then closed it when he realized he couldn’t tell Lucas a single word of that without it coming off as some patronizing lie.

“Lucas,” Mark started off, hesitantly, “Donghyuck and I-- we’re not like that . He doesn’t even like me, to be honest. Kinda hates me, actually.”

Mark ignored the twinge he felt, upon telling Lucas that. At the moment, he thought, Donghyuck’s feelings towards him were justified.

Lucas stilled, his hands closed on the hem of his t shirt. Then, he donned a sardonic smirk and pulled his shirt over the top of his head and off. He cast it aside, then stepped towards Mark. He raised his hand, and cupped the side of Mark’s face. Mark froze, heartbeat stuttering, as he looked up at Lucas.

“Baby, I know you wouldn’t cheat on me, especially not with someone like him. You’re too smart for that,” Lucas patted Mark’s cheek. Once, twice, and Mark felt increasingly uncomfortable. His touch didn’t feel romantic. It felt like a reminder.

Lucas pressed his lips to Mark’s, quick, cursory.

“You’ve just got to keep in mind how it looks when you sneak around with him. Remember, we don’t want to give people too much to talk about.”

Oh, was all Mark could think. Oh-- so that was all Lucas cared about. So that was the only reason he didn’t want Mark hanging out with Donghyuck.

Lucas drew back, his smile back to its normal size and brightness. He shrugged his suit’s button up shirt on.

“Now that that’s settled. Help me decide whether I should play it safe and just leave the top button undone, or be a little more daring and go with unbuttoning both of the top two. One says I’m mature. I think your parents would approve. But two-- two’s a bit more fun, a bit more me, right?”

Mark tried to remember if this was something he used to care about, if he would have been concerned with the number of buttons Lucas left unbuttoned before he’d gotten his claws and stabbed a man. Maybe he would have. Maybe the Mark from before would have watched carefully as Lucas unbuttoned and rebuttoned his shirt.

But, as Mark answered automatically, his eyes unfocused, he found himself thinking that he didn’t really care about if that Mark from before had ever existed. Because he couldn’t ever imagine going back to him, not now.

✗

Mark showed up at Chenle’s townhouse at nine again the next morning. Because Donghyuck hadn’t told him not to. Because he wanted to apologize. And maybe, just maybe, he couldn’t wait to see Donghyuck and his friends again, to get to know them better, to watch them shamelessly and openly use their quirks and abilities.

Mark knocked on the townhouse’s broad white front door, and moments later he heard a sound like a whip cracking through the air. The door opened to Jaemin’s smiling face, and Mark already felt a matching grin grow across his own.

Jaemin confessed that Mark had interrupted them at a bit of tenuous time, as Chenle had had the bright idea of making pancakes and Renjun had tried to help out. Jaemin concluded his explanation with a fond smile, telling Mark that, long story short, Jaemin and Chenle had abandoned their pancake plans in favor of cleaning pancake batter off of Renjun’s wings for him.

Mark followed Jaemin to the kitchen, where Chenle was scolding Renjun, who looked nonplussed. Renjun licked batter from a spatula while Chenle delicately dabbed at the splashes scattered across Renjun’s otherwise pristine white wings.

Mark laughed and joined in, grabbing a rag of his own and plopping down on the kitchen floor by Chenle. And that’s where he remained, half an hour later, when Donghyuck stumbled into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He had on another oversized t shirt, this one with the logo of a hockey team that Mark wasn’t sure even existed anymore.

“Mark,” Donghyuck said, blearily, voice still sleep-softened. The unexpected sound of it tugged at Mark’s heart. He blinked, heavily, “‘S this a dream?”

“Uh. No,” Mark said, sheepishly. After how they’d parted yesterday, he had no idea where to start with Donghyuck. He set the rag in his hands down and pushed up off the ground, “I wanted to say sorry, Donghyuck.”

It seemed as if everyone in the room was holding their breath, as they sat in wait for Donghyuck’s response. Donghyuck blinked again. Then, his eyes narrowed.

“Yeah, whatever. It’s too early for this.”

Donghyuck stepped carefully over Renjun’s feathers as he walked over to the fridge. Mark watched, silent, as he lifted a carton of orange juice from the fridge. After he poured himself a glass, Donghyuck turned back to Mark.

“I think I’ve got an idea that’ll help you with your control. It’s a little crazy, but it just might work.”

Mark noted the trepidation, the uncertainty in Donghyuck’s face. He had to smile, though. Donghyuck was still trying to help him, even now, even after he’d treated him so poorly.

“I’m willing to try anything, no matter how crazy.”

Half an hour later, Mark shook his head, panicked.

“What the shit-- no. We’re not trying that. Are you insane?”

Donghyuck rolled his eyes, then shared a look with Jeno, as if Mark was the one who was acting odd. Jeno only shrugged, as if saying that Mark had a point. Which he did. Of course he did. Because there were crazy plans, and then there was Donghyuck’s.

“Do you even have that healing factor thing?” Mark asked, voice strained.

Donghyuck shook his head and, if he rolled his eyes one more time, Mark was going to snap. Or snarl. Something.

“I won’t hurt you. We can’t do this.”

“You’ll only hurt me if you can’t control your claws,” Donghyuck said, simple, as if that was that. He was acting like he had faith in Mark’s abilities, a complete turnaround from what Mark had believed only yesterday. It was either that or Mark had was receiving training from a legitimately insane person.

“I haven’t even managed it once yet,” Mark pointed out, desperate for Donghyuck to see the flaw in his plan.

Overnight, Donghyuck had come up with the idea to have Jeno shoot lasers at Mark, emulating the same stressful conditions as their training yesterday. Out of his eyes, because apparently Jeno could do that.

The catch, the change that Mark couldn’t abide by, was that Donghyuck wanted to lay his hands over Mark’s knuckles. His reasoning was that Mark hadn’t had a good enough reason yet to hold back, to find his control. His reasoning, as far as Mark was concerned, was batshit.

“All the more reason to try this,” Donghyuck said, with a sigh. He hadn’t even changed out of his pajamas yet. He looked tiny, vulnerable in his massive shirt. He glared up at Mark, “Look. Better me than another one of these dorks, right? If my plan doesn’t work-- which it will, by the way. It will work-- then at least you won’t have sliced up someone who matters.”

Mark blinked, shocked into silence for a spell. Donghyuck’s eyes were fiery, determined. But he was so, so wrong.

“Where’d you get that from?” Mark wondered aloud, stupidly. Donghyuck looked taken aback to hear his question. Mark shook his head, then plunged on, “You matter. Whether or not you get harmed matters, Donghyuck.”

Mark had hardly known Donghyuck for a week, but he could already tell he’d collected a group of friends he was intensely loyal to, and that their loyalty was unwavering to him in turn. Hell, Donghyuck didn’t even like Mark, and Mark already felt protective towards him. He was unwilling to stand by and allow Donghyuck to get hurt by anyone, especially by Mark himself.

Donghyuck inhaled sharply, and Mark’s ears pricked to hear the way the air caught in his throat on the way in. He looked up at Mark, his eyes uncertain, and Mark was left wondering if he’d said something wrong. He’d never been the best at expressing himself.

“Should I like… go inside? I can give you guys space, if you want to talk through things alone,” Jeno sounded incredibly awkward. Mark had forgotten he was present. He and Donghyuck turned as one, to face Jeno.

“Yeah, could you?” Mark asked, at the same moment Donghyuck snapped, “Fuck no, you’re staying.”

Donghyuck turned back to Mark. His eyes were blazing, his mouth was a set line.

“Show me then, Mark. Prove that you can control yourself when it comes to something that matters.”

Donghyuck took Mark by the hand, and led him to the exact spot he’d stood yesterday. He stood Mark in front of the cemented fence, darkened with new singe marks. Donghyuck’s slight touch on his hand was enough to make Mark feel overwarm.

Mark shivered, though he burned, as Donghyuck circled around and came up from behind him. He wondered if Donghyuck was somehow passing on the heat he carried within him by contact, if that’s what was making the warm feeling bloom in Mark’s chest.

Donghyuck pressed flush up against Mark’s back, snaking his arms up, dragging his hands along until his fingers curled over Mark’s, covering them. Mark’s breath snagged as he inhaled, as Donghyuck’s fingers slotted over the gaps in his knuckles where his claws lay.

Mark made one last attempt at argument, as Jeno walked over to where Donghyuck had stood the day prior.

“Donghyuck, I can’t promise they won’t come out. I can’t promise I won’t hurt you.”

“It’s okay. I know you won’t,” Donghyuck said, his voice muffled by Mark’s shirt. Mark could feel his head, a solid weight, buried between his shoulder blades. Donghyuck was holding onto Mark tightly enough that Mark could hear his heart racing.

Mark wanted to ask him why his heart was beating so quickly, why he was so scared if he truly trusted Mark wouldn’t hurt him. But he didn’t and, before he knew it, Jeno was shouting, asking if he was ready.

Mark nodded, his own heartrate increasing, speeding up, matching Donghyuck’s. He heard Donghyuck gasp, felt his chest expand, then contract. Mark could feel his claws pushing through under his skin already, as Jeno moved to lift his glasses. He wondered if Donghyuck could feel his claws too, if that was why he’d gasped.

Mark strained, to hold back his claws. He didn’t bother with his heart, or his breath. He just focused on the six claws, where they pressed up against his skin, envisioning his thin skin to be a barrier. He visualized his skin as an impenetrable block that stood between the sharp tips of his claws and the soft touch of Donghyuck’s fingers on him.

Jeno lifted his glasses, and a thick beam of red-tinged white light emanated out, directly at Mark. At Donghyuck, behind him. Mark squinted against it, as it passed over his head, close enough to sizzle a few stray strands of his hair. He kept envisioning that barrier, kept willing the claws back. Then, the laser beam was shut off, as Jeno dropped his glasses back in place.

“That was too low, wasn’t it?” Jeno scratched the top of his head. He looked guileless. Mark was sure he hadn’t meant to do it, but the fact remained that Jeno had been an inch away from lasering Mark in the head.

“Yeah. Just a little,” Mark growled. He felt Donghyuck tense at his back.

“Who cares about that?” Donghyuck shifted behind him, drawing to the front, to face him. He lifted Mark’s hand, unblemished, skin unbroken, no sign of any claws poking through, “Mark, you did it!”

Donghyuck looked up at Mark, his expression one of pure, unbridled excitement, as he held Mark’s hand high. Mark felt his heart skip in his chest, felt his breath stop as he looked not at his hand, not at his achievement, but at Donghyuck’s overjoyed face.

Mark wasn’t surprised when skipping a whole day of school ended with another full week’s worth of detentions. He barely felt a twinge when the vice principal stared him down and, with utmost disappointment on her face, told him she’d expected better of him. And, even then, it wasn’t because he felt guilty for skipping school. He just related to the sentiment. Even with his claws under control, he still expected better of himself.

Still-- “That’s a load of bullshit,” he turned to Donghyuck, once they’d left the vice principal’s office. Mark was indignant on his behalf, “I don’t think she said a single word to you.”

Donghyuck snorted, less bitter than his normal laugh. He seemed… lighter, Mark realized. His shoulders seemed less slumped. Mark had even caught him smiling once, when he’d turned around to peek a glance at him in class. It was just the corner of his lip, quirked up as he looked out the window, but it was something.

“Mark, I’d be surprised if she even knew my name. The week of detentions though… that bites.”

Mark lifted an eyebrow. Donghyuck said that, but he was grinning.

“If you say so.”

“I mean, I already see enough of you in class. Now I have to look at your ugly face for an hour every day after school too?” Donghyuck shivered, “Torture.”

Mark laughed. He thought Donghyuck might be joking. Maybe. He wasn’t completely sure, though. He was still convinced that Donghyuck barely tolerated him.

“Let me drive you home after detention,” Mark offered, on impulse, “Since it’s my fault you even had to skip school to begin with.”

Donghyuck’s smile went smaller, more uncertain.

“You don’t have to do that,” he said. Mark was so used to seeing him act completely confident, sure of himself. He rushed to reassure him.

“It’s no trouble, really! I mean,” Mark grinned, self deprecating, as he admitted, “You’d have to spend more time with me but even that’s preferable to walking home, right? Just look at it as me making up all you’ve done for me.”

“I guess you are kind of hopelessly indebted to me,” Donghyuck laughed, still uncertain, still different from his normal laugh, “And, to be honest, I think Chenle and Renjun would actually murder me if I denied them a chance to see you. Alright, fine.”

Mark felt that warmth in his chest, like a flower blooming under the sun.

“Great! Thank you,” he said, and it was only when Donghyuck’s uncertain expression morphed to one of utter confusion that he realized what he’d said.

Mark felt his cheeks heat, the warm feeling spreading, shifting to his face. Sure, he’d been relieved when Donghyuck accepted his offer. But that was one thing. Thanking Donghyuck for it though, aloud… Mark wondered how red his face had gotten.

“Uh. You’re welcome?”

Mark desired nothing more than for the ground to open up and swallow him whole. Mark saw movement, out of the corner of his eye. He glanced to the side to see the library door, ajar. Lucas was probably waiting for him in there, eager to see Mark’s notes. He latched on the excuse to make a quick, albeit graceless, escape.

“I just remembered how much homework I have to catch up on,” Mark stumbled over the words, as he jutted his thumb towards the library, “Guess I’ll see you after school, then?”

“Yeah, Mark,” Donghyuck looked like he was holding back a peal of laughter. His eyes flickered light, and it was practically the nail in the coffin for Mark’s embarrassment, “Catch you in detention.”

As Mark walked into the library, he retraced the conversation in his head, pinpointing where exactly he’d misstepped. It was all he could do to keep from hitting himself in the head.

“You’re an idiot, Mark Lee, but what’s new?” he sighed, under his breath. He looked up, and caught Lucas’s eye. Lucas looked preoccupied, his brow low and his lips downturned as he simply nodded in acknowledgement of Mark.

Mark took his seat at Lucas’s elbow. He drew out his science notes, as Lucas wordlessly tapped his pencil’s eraser against the library’s desk.

“More detention?” Lucas asked.

Mark nodded, cautiously. He wondered the last time he’d seen Lucas like this, before, “Yeah. Monday ‘til Friday. I think they’re worried I’m ‘going down the wrong path’ or something.”

Lucas hummed, in reply.

“That Donghyuck kid... he’s gonna be with you.”

It wasn’t a question. Mark felt a creeping unease upon detecting a strange note in Lucas’s voice, something hard, something alien.

“Yeah, he is,” he confirmed, pushing down the uneasy feeling.

Lucas’s pencil stilled, leaving the air pregnant in the silence that followed.

“Huh,” Lucas said, simply.

Mark frowned. Something was bothering Lucas, clearly. He wondered if it was something he’d done. Then, with a sinking heart, realized that was probably a safe conclusion.

“Is something wrong?” he prompted, hesitant.

Lucas shook his head, then laughed. When he turned to look at Mark he was grinning, broad.

“Nah, I’m good. You’re still working on getting back your captaincy, right? I swear, the soccer team’s getting more and more sway with the school every year.”

Lucas’s abrupt mood shift, how clear it was that he wasn’t speaking his mind, all of it aggravated Mark. He felt a prickly sensation across his skin, as it starting to crawl.

“Sway? What the hell does that mean?”

Unbidden, Mark recalled freshman year. He and Lucas had met officially for the first time when they both reached for the same pencil to fill out their names on sign up sheets for their respective junior varsity tryouts. Lucas for basketball and Mark for soccer.

He remembered how excitedly Lucas had talked about basketball, how enthused he’d seemed for Mark, for Mark’s tryouts, even though they had only met moments prior. Lucas’s eyes had lit up when Mark had showed off a quick juggling trick. It had made Mark only want to show off more, to get Lucas’s eyes to keep shining at him, because of him.

Mark wondered when Lucas had stopped seeing soccer like that, as something he could share and enjoy with Mark. Wondered when he’d started seeing it as a tool to maintain Mark’s image. Wondered how he’d missed that shift in priorities.

Mark watched Lucas’s eyes dart around the room before he let an easy grin spread across his face. He leaned in towards Mark, laying an elbow on the notes and textbooks laid out before them. Mark’s nostrils flared. Lucas seemed to have used a heavy hand with his cologne that day. The smell of lay thick, overwhelming in the air.

“Geez, calm down, baby,” Lucas said, in an undertone, “It’s okay. We’ll figure out how to get you back on the team. Just-- people are staring.”

Mark just barely restrained himself from snarling ‘who gives a shit’ right back at Lucas. Lucas gave a shit. Of course he did. Mark probably should, too.

Mark let out a nigh imperceptible sigh, just a soft exhalation. But he nodded, and turned back to his notes. When he curled his fingers around a pencil, he almost took comfort in the now-familiar feel of his claws shifting under his skin.

Mark thought about Lucas for the rest of the day, about when they’d shifted, when they’d changed from individuals who liked each other, Mark and Lucas, to some impregnable duo. The exact point they’d become just the captain of the soccer team and the captain of the basketball team, the prom kings, MarkandLucas. And what it meant, now that Mark was nothing like he used to be. Now that he wasn’t entirely sure if Lucas had remained unchanged over the years, either.

In his car, after detention, Mark asked Donghyuck an abrupt question, cutting off his own rambling answer to Donghyuck asking him how the rest of the day had gone.

“--Have you ever wondered if you’re only dating someone because it’s what you’ve always done?”

Donghyuck froze, in the midst of fiddling with the dials of Mark’s car radio. The station was set to static, crackling in the air. Mark pressed his lips, together, willing himself to just shut up, for once in his life. He didn’t need to be baring himself like this to anyone, not when  least of all Donghyuck.

Donghyuck clicked the radio off. Drew back in his seat.

“Can’t say I have,” he said, airily, and Mark let out a sigh of relief he hadn’t known he was holding onto. It was just another casual conversation. “I’ve never actually dated anyone, so.”

“Really?” Mark asked, in disbelief. Donghyuck was a little fiery, sure. But he was clever, he had a wicked sense of humor, he was loyal and protective and he looked… the way he did.

“Uh, yeah,” Donghyuck snorted. Then, quieter, “Only like people you can’t have. That’s my policy. Keeps thing interesting, you know?”

He’d said it like it was meant to be a joke, but there was far too much bitterness in his tone. Mark glanced at Donghyuck, at the wry grin on his face, the smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He felt even worse for bringing Lucas up, when Donghyuck clearly was dealing with his own issues.

“I guess,” he said. If Donghyuck wanted to act like he didn’t care, he’d let him. Even if Mark didn’t like it, even if he worried that it’d only make Donghyuck’s hurt worsen in the long run.

“Jesus. You’re supposed to laugh, Mark,” Donghyuck leaned forward, flicked on the radio. He spun the dial, landing at last on some station that was playing an ad for pest removal service. He sighed, but left the ad playing, “Even though I’m a sad, single loser, I think I could help you out a little. You’re kinda stupid.”

Donghyuck grinned, as Mark glanced his way, and Mark found himself cracking a smile.

“You’re not a sad loser,” he said, because he couldn’t resist, “But you’re right in one thing. I really could use some help on this. Okay, so imagine you’ve been dating your girlfriend for a couple years now--”

Donghyuck choked out a laugh, abrupt, startling Mark.

“What?” Mark asked, unsure what he could have said.

“Nothing,” Donghyuck said, his voice high, elevated with suppressed laughter, “Sorry. Tell me more about my girlfriend.”

“Uh,” Mark tried to recapture his train of thought, “Okay. So you’ve been dating her--” Donghyuck made a muffled noise. Mark grew increasingly concerned, but he trudged on, “--for awhile now, and she--” Donghyuck made another muffled sound, this one more distinctly a barely concealed laugh and Mark couldn’t let it rest anymore.

“Okay, seriously, what’s so funny?”

“You,” Donghyuck said, simply, but Mark couldn’t even bring himself to be offended, not when Donghyuck looked so happy, “I think I’ve located Mark Lee’s single flaw: he’s fucking clueless.”

“I hate it when you use my full name like that,” Mark said, honestly, but he was grinning.

He couldn’t even understand himself. Donghyuck was just calling him clueless and he was over the moon about it. It might’ve had something to do with the way he’d said it. All warm and amused, like it wasn’t an insult at all.

“Would you prefer I call you Puppy? I could do that.”

“Honestly? Yeah. At least Puppy’s cute,” Mark griped.

He glanced again at Donghyuck, risking it right before a turn he had to take. Donghyuck was looking at him, thoughtful expression on his face. Mark whipped his head away, staring back out the window, begging with his body not to betray him and bring a blush to his cheeks.

“Okay, then,” Donghyuck’s voice was soft, “Puppy it is.”

They never did get around to talking about Mark’s relationship struggles, which he ended up feeling grateful for. He regretting ever bringing it up to Donghyuck, though he knew Donghyuck was right. Mark was clueless, and if he was any smarter, if he had any inkling of sense like Donghyuck, he knew he wouldn’t feel as lost as he did. He’d know exactly what to do about Lucas, without having to be told.

After Mark dropped Donghyuck off at Chenle’s townhouse (still Chenle’s place, Mark was beginning to wonder about it, how Donghyuck always seemed to be over there, how he hadn’t spotted a single adult there in all the time he was spending there), Donghyuck dragged him indoors.

Mark dropped in and said hi. He checked in on Chenle, Renjun, Jeno, and Jaemin in turn. Chenle confessed he’d moved on from pancakes. The next thing he was working on making was actual cakes. To Mark’s dismay and amusement, Renjun acted like he didn’t even remember Mark’s name, at first calling him Matt, then Mercutio.

Jaemin was in the middle of an intense match of some online game Mark didn’t recognize. Donghyuck informed Mark with something like jealousy in his voice that he hadn’t moved from since Donghyuck had left for school that morning.

It was then that Mark finally found out Jeno’s thing-- his anchor that kept him occupied, like Jaemin’s garden and Chenle’s baking. Jeno was holed up in his room, on his computer. He showed Mark what he was working on. A spreadsheet filled with names, places, links to news articles and forum sites. It was simply entitled ‘ Others Like Us?’.

With a warm smile, Jeno pointed to a rather wordy section on the spreadsheet, a block with Mark’s name highlighted in yellow. “You’ve been keeping me busy,” Jeno had said, to which Mark could only laugh.

Mark left Chenle’s townhouse with a smile on his face and a skip in his step, and he found himself looking forward to the rest of the week, to being able to see them all every day. It was with that excitement that Mark decided to drop by the park before heading home.

He wanted to practice his control. He felt optimistic that he could rein in his strength enough to kick a soccer ball around. He felt unstoppable, like anything was achievable.

Mark’s gut feeling led him right, again. With the knowledge he’d gained from Donghyuck’s plan to help him control his claws, he was also able to hold back on his strength. To pull up, just as his foot was about to make connection with the ball, just tap it. The ball still went soaring, but it was only as far as it would have gone, if Mark had kicked with all his might before he’d changed, before his claws appeared.

Mark grinned, as he watched the ball sail and land in the grass, far away, across the park. He jogged to it as it slowed to a roll, intercepting it before it rolled past the edge of the park’s grass, onto the sidewalk and street beyond.

Mark picked up the ball, tossed it into a high spin, then caught it. He allowed himself a moment to revel in his success, his smile softening as he recalled that he couldn’t have done it without the help of Donghyuck.

He tried to envision coming back to his team, how they’d react and… he couldn’t. Everytime Mark tried to picture passing a ball, tossing it in, he kept picturing their faces, disgusted, fearful. He kept hearing their laughter, high and cruel and warped even louder in memories, ‘freak’ hissed over and over in an undertone.

Mark took a shuddering breath. He’d never be able to see them the same way again, not as his teammates, and certainly not as friends. They’d turned on him so easily, so quickly. Why the fuck had Mark been so eager to prove himself to them?

The sharp, insistent sound of an alarm rang out in the far distance, derailing Mark’s train of thought. He looked up, as he watched people across the street also pause, frozen in the midst of their daily routines. As they all turned towards the sound of the ringing claxons, trying to find the source of the alarm.

Mark knew, with his hearing and seeing, he’d be able to find it quicker than anyone else. A scream, a shout, and the sound of something massive crashing and shattering sealed the deal for him. He couldn’t stand by, not when he knew he could help.

Mark let the soccer ball fall from his hands to the grass below, and took off sprinting in the direction of the alarm.

A jewelry store a block from the park where Mark had been practicing soccer had been broken into. The pair of thieves had taken off on foot, going south, with a bag of pricey diamond encrusted necklaces and earrings in tow. That’s what Mark gathered, as he hid behind a shop corner and caught his breath, listening in on the distraught shopkeeper’s desperate cries towards anyone who seemed willing to lend him an ear.

The shopkeeper was a portly old man, with a fluffy grey mustache, and he stood amidst a scattering of glass shards from the broken window behind him. Maybe it was the mustache, maybe it was the half-moon glasses perched atop his nose, but he looked just like Mark’s memory of the man who used to lead the church choir in hymns every Sunday, back when his mother still made him go to mass.

Mark exhaled, heavy, then darted out from behind the corner, dipping into alleyways and out of the light as frequently as possible as he followed the direction the shopkeeper had pointed towards. He hoped, prayed the thieves hadn’t reached a method of quicker escape yet. Mark realized he couldn’t even hear sirens yet. He needed to catch them before they disappeared, because the cops sure weren’t arriving in a timely fashion.

Mark’s sneakers pounded against the pavement, his chest heaved as he raced, straining his ears for any tell tale signs of the thieves. He listened for jewelry tinkling as they knocked up against each other, shuffling feet, hurried conversations, screams. Mark almost ran right by an open alleyway, until he registered the low tones of a heated, hushed argument being held within. He skidded to a stop, backed up, peered into the open mouth of alley.

Two masked figures loomed over a lump-- a canvas bag. One was crouched, their hand on the bag. The other was holding something small in their hand, they had it trained at the first person. The second figure gestured with the object, and it caught the light of the streetlights at Mark’s back. He inhaled sharply as he placed the shape. A gun.

He strained to catch their conversation.

“--Agreed we’d split it fifty-fifty,” the one with their hand on the bag was saying. A male’s voice. Older. How old, Mark couldn’t tell. He could only pick up how scared he was. His stress was almost palpable.

“Dunno ‘bout that, Gary. I think I remember it being seventy-thirty. And that’s awful generous of me, now that I think about it. In fact, it mighta even been eighty-twenty. Yes, I think it was, actually.”

The second figure was female. Younger, maybe even only a decade or so older than Mark, though he couldn’t be fully sure.

Mark flexed his fingers into a fist, swallowing hard as his eyes tracked the shiny barrel of the gun, as the woman carelessly traced it through the air. Mark could hear innocent people walking by, in just the street over. Children, families. He steeled his nerves, cursing his traitorous, pounding heart, then walked into the alleyway.

“Hi,” Mark greeted them, voice pitched high with his nerves. He was shaking so violently it felt like his teeth were rattling. The man and woman turned to look at him, their eyes glinting in the shadows.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but,” Mark pointed at the canvas bag. He hoped it was too dark in the alley for them to see that his finger was trembling, “I’m pretty sure you didn’t pay for that.”

Somehow, this already disastrous conversation was still less embarrassing than thanking Donghyuck for riding with him. Mark didn’t know whether to be grateful or not that he was too terrified to feel any shame.

The woman turned to look at her companion, then leveled her gaze and her gun back at Mark. Mark’s heart was hammering in his chest, thudding. It was taking every ounce of control he had to hold back his claws.

“Unreal,” the woman said, “Are you crazy or just this goddamn stupid, kid? Get lost.”

Mark had no idea what he was doing, why he’d run forward the way he had. This robbery shit had nothing to do with him, not really. He could listen to the woman holding a gun to his face, get lost. That’d be smart.

But Mark had never been that smart, not really. And he had claws and, hell, he could heal cuts in seconds, maybe he could even survive a bullet to the face.

Just get the gun first, he told himself, get that out of the way, then you can work on the rest .

Then, Mark leapt forward. He didn’t know how long he was airborne, but by the time he alighted back on the ground, right in front of the woman, she’d moved her finger to the trigger.

Mark panicked when he noticed, whipping out his fist before he could even move to get the gun. His eyes squeezed shut as he punched the woman. He heard a sickening crunch, as something gave way beneath his fist, then cracked open an eye to watch as the woman flew back several feet. From the moment she landed, she was still. She didn’t move from where she lay amidst the dust and debris in the alley.

“Shit. Not again,” Mark gasped, looking at her prone body. He’d just broken her nose, he thought. Hoped.

“What the hell?” the older thief exclaimed.

The thief clambered to his feet, raised his fists achingly slow, as if he was moving through molasses. It was too easy for Mark to unsheathe his claws, extend them out at eye level. He used them to back the thief up against one of alleyway’s brick walls.

Mark paused. He wasn’t out of breath. He was simply surprised at that move, the one he’d swear he’d pulled purely instinctually. He peered over the tips of his claws, at the thief. His eyes, wide as saucers, were the only part of him visible through the gashes in his ski mask.

“What are you?” the thief asked.

When Mark heard the question, he felt like laughing.

“I’ve been asking myself the same thing,” Mark admitted, voice trembling with leftover adrenaline. With the armed woman knocked out, the most imminent threat had passed. The hammering of his heart was starting to slow.

Mark glanced back at the canvas bag, briefly, then turned back to the old man, still pinned by his claws to the wall.

“Look,” Mark let out a shaky breath, before figuring he might as well go for it, “I really don’t want to have to knock you out too. I’m still not sure I can do that without breaking anything serious, so I’d prefer it if you just went on your way and let me take that bag back to its rightful owner. That sound good to you?”

The old man nodded urgently, not saying another word. Mark didn’t know how he felt, knowing that he’d been able to make someone so afraid of him that they’d agreed to his demands without question.

“Right.”

Finally, Mark heard the sound of sirens in the distance. He recalled the small crowd who had already gathered in front of the jewelry store when he’d first showed up there.

Mark really hadn’t thought past obtaining the bag of stolen jewelry. He figured he could probably just drop the bag back off close by the store itself, or close by a patrol car or something. But he needed some way to make sure he wasn’t identified when he brought the bag back. He didn’t want a repeat of the hospital moment.

Mark’s eyes slid over, from the bag to the would-be robber he had pinned to the wall.

“Weird question, but would you mind if I borrowed your mask?”

Mark was brushing his teeth, getting ready to turn in for the night, when his phone lit up with a text message from Donghyuck.

It was just the words ‘please tell me you didn’t have anything to do with this’ with a link attached. Mark spat, swiped the back of his hand across his mouth, and clicked the link. It led to a news article.

Strange But True: Robbers Lift $250,000 Worth of Jewelry Only to Return It All Within the Hour

Officer Brown was quoted as saying ‘This is the power of a well policed community. Our lawbreakers even police themselves’. Witnesses say that, although two robbers were present during the heist, only one was spotted returning the stolen goods….

Mark rolled his eyes at the police officer’s statement, but the article’s second sentence gave him pause. He’d thought the mask and the cover of night would have been enough to prevent detection but, even with that, he was spotted.

He resolved to be more careful, in the future. Then, he stopped himself. What the fuck was he thinking, in the future? The man with the knife, the robbers-- those had just chances he’d had to take, to protect someone’s life, or someone’s livelihood.

Mark lowered his phone. He looked at himself in the mirror, cocked his head. He wasn’t going to make a pattern of this kind of crime fighting thing. He couldn’t. The people who did that sort of thing didn’t cover their face. They wore capes and patrolled the skies of New York City. That wasn’t Mark. Not at all. He was just a teen who lacked a healthy sense of self preservation, a boy who still shook at the sight of a gun pointed his way.

Mark mulled it over as he plodded to his bed and slipped under the covers. He tossed, as he stared at his open messages until his phone screen went dark. He couldn’t think of a text he could send Donghyuck, not something truthful. Whatever he told Donghyuck would just make him more upset with Mark.

✗

Donghyuck was sitting on Mark’s desk when he walked into the science room the next morning, his eyes blazing. Mark felt a headache coming on, as Lucas pulled up behind him and slung his arm around Mark’s shoulders, his touch familiar and too heavy all at once.

Donghyuck tracked the movement, his brows lowering. Mark felt imminent disaster brewing, as the smell of smoke hit his nostrils and Donghyuck turned his eyes back to Mark.

“You ignored my text,” he said, tone unreadable.

Conscious of Lucas looming at his back, Mark tried to pick his words carefully. Donghyuck was putting him in a difficult spot. Mark was stuck between lying to Donghyuck about the robbery and exposing himself to Lucas.

“Can we talk about this later? Please?”

“No,” the fires in Donghyuck’s eyes flared, “we’re talking now. You’re going to tell me whether or not you were involved now, or we’re not talking at all.”

“Donghyuck,” Mark gaped. Donghyuck was asking too much of him, asking that he admit to stopping the robbers in front of Lucas, in front of everyone.

“He clearly doesn’t want to talk to you, freak. Get back to your own seat,” Lucas intoned, without affectation.

“Lucas, please,” Mark tried, his voice strained, looking up at Lucas’s aloof face. He’d asked Lucas not to call Donghyuck that. His usage of the word made something clench around Mark’s heart, like he’d been the one insulted. Lucas’s arm started to feel heavier and heavier over his shoulders.

Mark searched for the hurt, the reaction in Donghyuck’s face, but Donghyuck’s expression only hardened.

“No. It’s fine. I’ll leave,” Donghyuck leapt, landing lightly on his feet in front of Mark. He gestured back at Mark’s desk, “Go on, Puppy. Sit.”

When Donghyuck left the room, the smell of smoke lingered and Mark was left feeling an ache in his chest.

“The hell’s his problem?” Lucas asked. He slipped his arm from Mark’s shoulders the instant the classroom door closed behind Donghyuck.

Mark wished he knew. He wondered hopelessly if Donghyuck really cared that much about Mark getting caught. He’d thought Donghyuck would be angry, but he hadn’t anticipated he’d be that upset.

When Donghyuck didn’t answer Mark’s texts, he figured it was fair game. He didn’t like it, but he understood it. When Donghyuck didn’t show up the rest of the day, even for detention, Mark began to worry. He spent the entire detention period alone with his thoughts, just listening to the clock tick and the teacher snore softly, going crazy imagining what could have happened to Donghyuck.

Once Mark got behind his wheel, without a moment’s deliberation, he took off towards Chenle’s townhouse.

When Chenle opened the door and offered a hesitant, “Are you here for Hyuckie?” Mark didn’t know what to feel. He could only nod.

He craned his head to peer past Chenle into the townhouse, as if Donghyuck would be right inside, ready to tell him off again. He sniffed, and felt a spike of adrenaline, as the faintest scent of smoke intermingled with the floral smell of Jaemin’s garden.

“He doesn’t want to see you right now,” Chenle said, soft.

Mark frowned, as he sniffed the air again, “He said that?”

“No.”

Mark’s gaze fell back to Chenle, his attention recaptured with the blunt answer. He remembered who he was talking to. Mark wondered what Chenle could have read from Donghyuck to make him so sure. He swallowed, around the sudden lump in his throat. Probably nothing good.

“But he’s fine, right?”

“Yeah,” Chenle smiled, “I mean, he was blowing off steam in the backyard and burnt a good portion of Jaemin’s peonies to a crisp, so I can’t actually guarantee that for certain. But, last I checked, he’s okay.”

Mark was filled with relief. So Donghyuck was okay. He was mad, but he was okay. Mark could work with that.

Chenle peered up at Mark, his fingers curling tight where they lay on the door’s edge. He sighed, a little softly. A tired sound.

“Wanna come in?” he asked, “Injunnie keeps trying to help me in the kitchen. I need someone to keep him away from the powdered sugar.”

Minutes later, Mark found himself in a comfortingly familiar situation, wiping vibrant pink frosting from the tips of Renjun’s feathers.

“How does this keep happening to you?” Mark sighed, feeling the slight warmth of fondess despite himself. He drew the rag in his hand back in a hurry after Renjun let out a hiss.

“Watch it, Morton!”

Chenle laughed, high and clear, as he navigated around Mark and Renjun. Mark sent a look to the back of his head, as he rummaged through the cupboards. He knew Chenle would pick up on his reproach, whether or not he could see it.

Once he’d finally finished scrubbing the frosting rom Renjun’s wings, and given up on getting the pink stains it had left behind, Mark settled in. He watched, snickering, as Chenle slapped Renjun’s questing hand from his cake and baking tools. Chenle scolded him until he finally slunk away and joined Mark on the floor to wait for the cake to be done.

Mark looked around, at the kitchen strewn with ingredients and dirtied bowls and utensils. At the cakes at varied levels of artistry haphazardly piled around on the counters. He wondered about it, about how much free time Chenle had.

“Hey, Chenle,” he started, hesitant, “you don’t go to school, right?”

Chenle hummed, as he swiped his thumb around the rim of a plate he was using to frost a cake.

“No. But you don’t need to be concerned, Mark. I make do pretty well here.”

Mark felt his cheeks heat, as Chenle saw right through him. Renjun scoffed at his side, rustling his wings, folding them in.

“He’s lying. He’s slowly going insane from boredom, just like the rest of us.”

Chenle looked up from his cake to shoot Renjun at dirty look. Renjun wasn’t bothered in the slightest. He just shrugged, and tucked his legs neatly in.

“Do you guys ever leave the house?” Mark asked, unable to stop himself.

He supposed he hadn’t given it much thought before, but he’d only ever seen Chenle outside of the townhouse once. And that one time, he’d had a panic attack. Other than Donghyuck, everyone always seemed to stay within the confines of the house.

“Can you really picture me walking down the street, at the mall?” Renjun asked. As if to prove his point, he plucked out one of his feathers and started to play with it, drawing indiscernible figures in the air.

Mark frowned.

“Sometimes,” Chenle began, setting down the spatula and the frosting bag he’d been holding to look at Mark, “when it rains real hard and everyone’s hiding out indoors, I’ll go for a walk to the movie theater. I can watch a new movie without having to worry about getting overwhelmed then.”

Mark wished he could do anything to help the sadness, the pity he was filled with upon Chenle’s words. There was no doubt Chenle could pick up on those feelings. Chenle’s eyes darted down, away from Mark.

“That’s no way to live,” Mark said, finally.

“It’s the only way,” Renjun snapped, his uncaring exterior slipping, “It’s hide or be hunted. You think people out there are just gonna... let me go about my life, when they see me, when they see these? ”

Renjun jutted a thumb back, at his wings. They were rustling, seemingly uncontrollable with his aggravation. Mark swallowed, feeling heat rise to his cheeks, but he didn’t back down.

“Have you ever given them a chance? They might not care. They might even think your wings are cool.”

Renjun rose to his feet, glaring down his nose at Mark. Mark froze as he stared up at him. Renjun painted an intimidating silhouette, backlit by the yellowed kitchen lights.

“My own parents couldn’t look me in the eye when these things started to show up. After a week, they couldn’t fit under my shirt anymore and that was it for Mom and Dad. They couldn’t deny their son was… was abnormal when the evidence was right before their eyes,” Renjun’s voice was tinny, strained. Mark’s throat hurt just to hear it.

“So they figured a way they’d never have to lay eyes on me again. Told me to get out, and never come back.”

Renjun’s voice cut out and he looked away, over his shoulder. Mark watched his Adam’s Apple bob in his throat as he swallowed. He was filled with regret. He wished he’d never even spoken.

“Renjun, I’m sorry. I didn’t think--”

“--Yeah, well, now’s a good time to start. ‘Cause the rest of us don’t have a perfect life, Mark. Things didn’t work out as neat and tidy for us as they did for you. So maybe ponder that a little, before you go and lecture us on how the world might just accept us.”

Mark felt the hot underpinnings of shame, as he ducked his head, unable to look at Renjun any longer. Getting kicked off his team was nothing compared to getting kicked out by your parents. And, according to Renjun, every single one of the rest of the freaks had undergone something similar.

Even Donghyuck, Mark thought, with a pang. He felt like an idiot, just now realizing why Donghyuck had never once had him drop him off at his real home. He didn’t have one. Mark sucked in his lower lip-- Donghyuck had never said anything. But Mark should’ve thought. He just hadn’t thought.

Mark heard the glass door that headed out to the backyard slide open and shut and, when he looked up, Renjun was gone.

Chenle let out a soft sigh, and Mark turned to him.

“This stinks,” Chenle frowned down at his cake, “Nothing I try to make people happy works.”

The pang in Mark’s chest grew into a worser ache, as if his heart was being pierced by one of his own claws. It was his fault. He was the one who’d hurt Donghyuck, he was the one who’d made Lucas’s smile less bright. He’d even hurt Renjun, and Chenle. He was the common denominator, the reason everyone couldn’t be happy.

Chenle screwed up his nose, made a face. He picked up the cake and, without fanfare, walked towards the trash bin. Mark leapt to his feet.

“Whoa, wait, what are you doing?”

Chenle huffed, as he flipped the bin’s lid open, “It doesn’t even look pretty, Mark. It can’t sit out on the countertop. It’s just gonna make the rest of the guys feel worse.”

Mark’s eyes traced the outline of the lumpy cake. Chenle had frosted it unevenly, pale patches of the cake showed through the vibrant, hot pink coating. Mark had to admit it was a little rustic.

Mark lurched forward, swiped a finger across the top of the cake. He sucked the frosting off his finger, heart lifting when the unexpected, bright taste of citrus hit his tastebuds.

“Who cares how it looks? It tastes delicious,” He was glad to be honest about it, as he looked into Chenle’s widened eyes, “Did you add flavor to the frosting?”

Mark felt the beginnings of a smile cross his face, as Chenle’s expression morphed from downtrodden to confused.

“Yeah? I used orange juice and even some little bits of the peel. Zest, I think it’s called?” Chenle’s eyes darted down to the cake, “I know pink doesn’t really match but, well. I like pink.”

Mark choked out a laugh, and Chenle looked up at him in surprise.

“No! That’s totally a solid reason,” he rushed to say, then, “Hey, where do you keep your silverware?”

Chenle’s expression grew more confused, but he pointed out a drawer to Mark. Mark drew out two forks, extended one out to Chenle.

“What do you say we share this cake? Eat ‘til we feel like we’re gonna burst?”

Mark smiled at Chenle. He let his lasting relief and happiness at finding the rest of the freaks, at getting the chance to make friends with them radiate out. As he watched, a grin grew across Chenle’s face. He set the hot pink cake down on the countertop and took the fork from Mark.

“Okay.”

Renjun came back inside while they were still working on the cake. They’d barely made a dent, and Mark was already slowing down. Chenle had tapped out, lain down on the kitchen floor, moaning and grinning, with lips stained hot pink. With a stormy expression on his face, Renjun had unearthed a massive spoon that Mark could’ve sworn he hadn’t seen with the rest of the forks and knives and spoons.

Then, Renjun grumbled “You guys are weak .” and dug in.

By the time Renjun had thrown in the towel and joined Mark and Chenle in holding their stomachs on the kitchen floor, he was back to calling Mark by wrong name.

When Mark walked into the science classroom the next morning and saw Donghyuck seated in his seat at the back of the classroom, he felt as if his heart had leapt up into his throat. He was relieved to see him back already. It was kind of a ridiculous fear, but he’d been worried that Donghyuck’s anger at Mark would keep him away.

Mark allowed himself to stare at Donghyuck, as Donghyuck gazed out the window with his chin in his hand at the rain lashing against the glass. Mark couldn’t help but see him in a new light knowing that he, like the rest of the freaks, had no real home to go to.

But Donghyuck was the only one who still went out into the world, who still fought to go to school, enduring name calling and whispered rumors from the rest of the students surrounding him. Mark had to wince. He used to be one of those students, not that long ago. He might not have spread rumors himself, but he stood by and let his friends talk about them without saying a thing.

Lucas slid in front of Mark, blocking out his field of vision. Mark blinked, then moved his gaze up to Lucas’s face, to his broad smile.

“My dad’s going out of town the next week for work or something. Pretty sure his girlfriend’s literally gonna disappear the whole time he’s away. So I’ll have the house all to myself.”

Mark searched Lucas’s face, saw the mischievous twinkle in his eye, and he felt his heart rate begin to pick up.

“Huh,” Mark said, simply.

Lucas reached forward and grabbed Mark’s hand, threading their fingers together.

“I know. It’s gonna be pretty lonely,” Lucas moved smoothly around Mark, pivoting, making Mark turn a one-eighty. He pressed forward, crowding Mark up against his desk, “Come on, Mark. Come over. We haven’t hung out alone in forever.”

Mark’s heartbeat continued to quicken in his chest, speeding up. It had been weeks, now that he thought about it. He’d hardly thought about it at all, as occupied as he’d been lately.

“I-- okay,” Mark agreed, guilt at being so self-centered urging him on. Lucas’s grin went crooked, one corner lifting higher than the other.

Lucas released Mark’s hand, encircled Mark’s waist with his hand. He pulled Mark forward by a firm touch at the small of his back, then leaned in. Shivers travelled down Mark’s back as Lucas’s lips brushed up against the crest of his ear, as Mark’s nose was filled with the smell of Lucas’s cologne.

“I can’t wait. We’re gonna forget about everyone else. Just you, me, and a bottle of my dad’s overpriced whiskey.”

Mark felt weak in the knees as Lucas pulled away. He watched him go back to his seat with wide eyes. He couldn’t recall a previous time when Lucas had acted like that. Lucas was into holding hands, into kissing Mark’s cheek. He never went beyond that, not in public, not where all their classmates could see.

With something like a leaden weight dropping in his chest, Mark’s eyes flicked without a conscious thought behind him. Towards where Donghyuck sat. He held his breath, as he watched Donghyuck out of the corner of his eye, searching for something, some sign he’d noticed Lucas’s abnormal PDA.

He couldn’t tell. Donghyuck looked the same as he had when Mark had first walked in the classroom. He still had his head propped up on his hand, still had his face pointed towards the gloomy sky beyond the window. The sole difference was that his eyes had slid shut.

Throughout class, though, Mark kept feeling that prickling feeling at the back of his neck. The inexplicable sensation of eyes on him.

The instant they were allowed to leave Donghyuck raced from the detention room, and Mark was left hurrying to toss his homework in his backpack.

“Wait!” he called, at Donghyuck’s retreating back.

Donghyuck didn’t slow, but Mark had his freakish new strength. Without losing his breath, he caught up to Donghyuck and fell into step with him.

“Wait. You still need a ride, don’t you?”

Donghyuck cast him a sideways glance and Mark was taken aback at the anger he saw on his face. Still, he slowed to a normal walking pace and allowed Mark to match him.

“What the fuck are you doing, Mark?”

Mark stumbled as he walked. He wondered what Donghyuck was referring to. He figured it didn’t make sense for him to be talking about Mark’s reminder that he needed a way to get back to Chenle’s because he’d missed the bus.

“Is this about the jewlery robbery? I’m sorry for not texting you back about it,” Mark said, urgency speeding up his words, “But I’m not sorry for what I did. I had to get involved. Someone might have gotten hurt if I hadn’t.”

Donghyuck stopped walking entirely. He had an inscrutable look on his face, an expression Mark couldn’t ever decipher if he tried.

“What? No,” Donghyuck shook his head. He rounded on Mark, eyes blazing. Mark take an involuntary step back, “Also what the fuck are you talking about? You had to get involved? Really?”

Mark seemed to have only made Donghyuck angrier with his apology. He blinked. He couldn’t win when it came to Donghyuck, could he?

“You’re a kid  Mark,” Donghyuck advanced on him, making him take another step back, “A kid with claws but still just another fucking kid. You don’t have to do anything at all. Leave the crime fighting to people who know what they’re doing. You’re just going to get yourself hurt.”

In a second, Mark backed up into the lockers, and the empty hallway echoed with the clatter of the metal doors. Mark looked at Donghyuck’s fiery eyes, his contorted face. He was angrier than Mark had ever seen him. And it didn’t make sense. Mark didn’t understand.

“The people who know what they’re doing weren’t doing enough,” he retorted. His own voice rose in his mounting aggravation, in his frustration. Donghyuck was going to find fault with everything he did, no matter how or why he did it.

“Who cares if I get hurt, Donghyuck? Whatever happens to me will disappear in seconds anyways.”

“'Who cares'?”

For a heart stopping moment, Mark was sure Donghyuck was about to burst into flames. He could see the smoke rising from his frame, could see his eyes turned into twin furnaces, burning away.

Then, Donghyuck’s eyes slid shut. He exhaled, and took a half step back. When he opened his eyes they were normal, dark brown and devoid of any flickering lights within.

“You’re the single most frustrating person I’ve ever known,” Donghyuck hissed.

Mark wanted to protest. He wasn’t frustrating, Donghyuck just refused to try and understand his point of view. But, as if he could read Mark’s mind, Donghyuck held up a single finger and silenced him before he could open his mouth.

Donghyuck was slung his backpack off his shoulder, unzipped it. He dug through it, then withdrew a small, battered cardboard box from its depths.

He shoved the box at Mark’s chest, and when Mark’s hands flew up to catch it, they brushed up against Donghyuck’s. He felt the heat Donghyuck gave off, blazing, a sharp contrast to how soft his hand was. Then, Donghyuck drew his hand back. He zipped up his backpack, and reshouldered it.

Mark looked at the box Donghyuck had shoved at him. Band-aids. It looked like they were the kind made for kids, with little cartoon dogs printed on them. He looked back up at Donghyuck, confused.

“That’s a twenty count box. There better be twenty in there again tomorrow, and the day after. I don’t want you to have to use a single one,” Donghyuck explained, his eyes not meeting Mark’s.

Mark’s heart skipped a beat as he saw something that made him think his eyes were playing tricks on him. But he blinked and looked closer and confirmed it. Donghyuck was blushing. There was a definite, though slight, rosy saturation to his cheeks.

“What? Are you gonna check up on me? Take stock of them?” Mark asked, light, still not quite believing what he was seeing.

Donghyuck’s eyes snapped to his. If Mark had been worried he was mistaken before, he wasn’t now. Donghyuck’s cheeks were definitely flushed.

“Maybe,” then Donghyuck frowned, and tacked on a belated, “Oh, you can fuck right off.”

Mark cracked a grin, assured that Donghyuck was definitely still himself, despite the unexpected thoughtful gesture and the even less expected blush. Donghyuck shook his head, but as he turned to walk away, Mark could have sworn he caught a hint of a smile on his face.

But Donghyuck was still walking away.

“Donghyuck, are you sure you don’t want a ride?” he shouted, “What about the rain?”

“What rain?” Donghyuck called back, spinning while continuing to walk backwards through the school’s front door.

It opened as he walked through it, and Mark had to pause. The sky was completely clear outside, pure blue as far as the eye could see, not a wisp of a rain cloud in sight. Mark frowned. It had been pouring at the start of detention just an hour prior.

✗

Hanging out with Lucas was like stepping back in time. Mark couldn’t pinpoint it, but the moment he stepped through the threshold of Lucas’s house and Lucas tugged him to his living room, he felt like he was fourteen again. Embarking on his first relationship since he was twelve and kissed Sarah at the neighborhood pool and decided that girls and, by extension, dating weren’t for him.

Mark laughed as Lucas fell back onto the couch, as he patted his lap. Mark bypassed his lap, settling by Lucas’s side.

He reached over him to snatch the TV remote. As he scrolled through Lucas’s Netflix, Lucas leaned in, close enough to Mark’s face that his exhalations tickled Mark’s ear.

“You’re being creepy right now,” Mark whined, putting his hand up to save his ear, “Also, why are all of your suggested titles either cartoons or, like, Saw III?”

“Don’t call me creepy. I’m trying to work up the nerve to practice my dirty talk,” came the responding whisper.
Mark didn’t know what reaction Lucas had been hoping for, but he shivered, abandoning his search to turn to Lucas. Lucas’s lips curled into a smirk.

“Dirty talk?” Mark prompted, when it seemed like Lucas was just going to stare at him with that cocky smirk endlessly.

Lucas swung his leg up, placing his knee on the couch, so he could turn his whole body to face Mark. He raised his hand, laid it on Mark’s cheek, and leaned back in. Mark was frozen, as Lucas moved in. As his lips began to move.

“I ordered pizza,” he purred, “from that place you like, with that sauce we love.”

Mark bit his lip, trying to hide his grin. From the way Lucas’s eyes lit up, he wasn’t so successful in that. Lucas and he fell so easily back into a comfortable, familiar rhythm, outside of the halls of school.

They argued over what movie to pick but, by the time the pizza arrived, they’d decided on a Die Hard knockoff. It didn’t matter. Once Lucas broke out his father’s whiskey and poured it out into a couple plastic cups, they stopped paying attention to the shouting and explosions onscreen.

Lucas came up with his own version of Never Have I Ever, wherein he listed something he had done (always with Mark) and if Mark had done it too (which, of course, he had) then both he and Mark took a sip of their whiskeys. It brought them to buzzed, quick, and Lucas was already a giggling mess.

“Oh my God. The first time we kissed... your braces!” Lucas tossed his head back and laughed far more than Mark thought the memory warranted.

“Ugh. Don’t remind me,” he groaned. He set his plastic cup aside and clambered closer to Lucas, ending up in what could only charitably be called seated on his lap. He was less embarrassed to do it now that he had whiskey flowing through him, warming up his belly and cheeks.

Lucas automatically moved to wrap his arms around Mark, and Mark intercepted his cup too, before any of the pricey liquor within could slosh out onto the couch.

“It honestly kinda hurt my teeth. To kiss you back then, I mean,” Lucas moaned, reaching up and motioning over his mouth like he could still feel a phantom pain. Mark snorted. He hadn’t known.

“Then why’d you do it so much?”

“Because I knew that, in a year, I’d have the best looking boyfriend with the most perfectly aligned teeth in North Side,” Lucas’s hands slipped down, and Mark let out a soft ‘oh’ as Lucas readjusted him so they were facing each other.

Mark tried not to let the suddenly scant space between their lips fluster him too much.

“So I was a long term investment?”

Something big must have blown up in the Die Hard knockoff, because Lucas’s face flashed bright orange and red. A warped image of the explosion reflected off Lucas’s eyes. Mark felt odd, unnerved to see those colors in Lucas’s eyes as Lucas leaned in.

Mark squeezed his own eyes shut, so he wouldn’t have to see Lucas’s gaze, orange and red. And then Lucas’s lips were on his.

Lucas always kissed like it was a competition, like he had something to prove. He nipped at Mark’s lower lip then, as Mark gasped in surprise, he took advantage. He licked past Mark’s parted lips. Mark shuddered. Lucas tasted of bourbon. As Mark took hold of his senses and pushed back, flinging his arms around Lucas’s neck and pressing forward, he picked up something else. Something sharp and sweet. Mint.

Mark pulled back, just enough to separate from Lucas, gasping, feeling the same unnerved sensation from before.

“What is it?” Lucas asked, his voice low, gravelly.

“I don’t know,” Mark said, honestly. He felt ridiculous, put off from kissing Lucas because of his toothpaste, “I’m sorry.”

“‘S okay, baby. You can make it up to me,” Lucas opened his eyes, but only just. His hands slipped off from Mark and he reclined, leaning back. He gazed at Mark, his eyes half lidded, “Take off your shirt.”

Lucas wasn’t making it any easier for Mark to breathe. He swallowed, searching Lucas’s face for a hint of irony, that he might be teasing Mark. When he couldn’t find any, Mark lowered shaking hands to the hem of his shirt, then pulled it up and over his head.

He’d hardly thrown it aside, on the living room rug somewhere, before Lucas’s hands were back on him. Sliding up his skin, sending shivers across its surface. They slid up from the small of Mark’s back to the space between his shoulder blades.

“God,” Lucas groaned, the low tone of his voice hitting right in Mark’s gut, “I’ve been thinking about doing this for so long.”

Mark felt breathless, as a gust of cold air hit his bare skin, raising goosebumps across it.

“Doing what?” Mark asked.

Lucas ignored his question. His tongue flicked out to wet his lips, “Lie down for me, baby.”

Mark slid off Lucas’s lap, backed up to lie across the couch, heart thudding. Lucas’s lips curled into a lazy grin.

“There you go. That’s it.”

Mark wasn’t used to Lucas being so vocal in what he wanted from Mark, he realized. It was so unexpected, he was just obeying, complying easily with Lucas’s commands without a second thought.

Like some kind of pet, Mark thought, as Lucas kneeled over him. He had one legged pinned between Mark’s leg and the back of the couch, the other slotted between Mark’s thighs. Lucas reached forward. He pushed one hand through Mark’s hair, flung the other out by Mark’s head to balance himself.

“I can’t wait to see how that freak reacts, when he sees what I’ve done to you,” Lucas murmured excitedly, before tugging at Mark’s hair. He tilted Mark’s head to the side, exposing his neck to the cool air.

“Wait, what?” Mark asked, breathlessly, as Lucas leaned down and pressed his lips to the sensitive skin just under Mark’s ear.

He hissed, as Lucas began to trail open mouthed kisses, hot and damp, down his neck.

“I’m kinda surprised -- how much I want to see him get angry --,” Lucas explained, in a low guttural tone that was nearly a moan, interspersed with kisses. He paused, to take a shaky breath, then pressed back in, “-- think he’s the only one in school -- who doesn’t get that you’re mine.”

“What are you talking about?”

Mark’s brain wasn’t functioning properly. He might as well have blanked out entirely as Lucas opened his mouth, then bit down on Mark’s collarbone, eliciting another surprised gasp.

Lucas bit and sucked on the thin skin over the bone, just on the right side of painful to make Mark let out a hiss. Then, Lucas licked the spot where he’d bit. He pressed a close mouthed kiss to the spot, as if in apology, and moved up.

He started the process again, biting at the sensitive skin at the base of Mark’s neck light and playful, then harder, enough to make Mark’s eyes flutter shut.

“Lucas,” he gasped, barely holding onto his train of thought, “What are you talking about? Who do you want to see get angry?”

“That freak,” Lucas uttered against Mark’s skin, before nipping it again. Another explosion onscreen cast Lucas in orange and red, “Donghyuck.”

Mark felt like he’d been plunged in icewater. His breath hitched. It felt like something was constricting his chest, pushing the air out from his lungs, “Why would -- ah -- why would Donghyuck care?”

Lucas chuckled against Mark’s neck, before pressing in again. Mark bit his lip, then twisted his head to look at Lucas, knocking off Lucas’s hand from his hair.

Lucas pulled away, his eyes still twinkling. Then, he seemed to look at Mark’s face for the first time. The corners of his lips tugged down into a frown at what he saw there.

“Wait. You’re serious?”

Mark’s brows knitted together, as he looked up at Lucas, his lips kiss-swollen and flushed. Of course he was being serious. He was utterly confused as to why Lucas thought Donghyuck would get mad about hickeys, of all things. Donghyuck got mad about Mark being stupid, about Mark not listening to him. He wouldn’t care about something like this.

Lucas’s expression was one of disbelief.

“Baby, I thought you were smarter than this. I thought you were kidding when you said he hated you.”

Mark shook his head, scarcely believing what Lucas was saying. Lucas made a thoughtful noise, as he gazed down at Mark.

“He’s so fucking obvious about you.”

Mark felt his heart skip a beat.

“What?” he asked, breathless.

Lucas’s lips curled back up in a crooked grin, “Shit. You’re almost making me feel bad for the freak,” his eyes flicked back down to Mark’s neck, “Can we stop talking about him now? It’s a little depressing. Kinda ruining the mood.”

Mark couldn’t respond, couldn’t summon up any words.

Lucas thought Donghyuck liked him. Mark guessed Lucas had only figured that because he didn’t know the whole story. He didn’t know why Donghyuck was forced to hang around with him-- that Donghyuck had been pulled into training Mark.

“...the hell?” Lucas’s surprised tone shook Mark out of his reverie.

Lucas’s head whipped up, his eyes wide. All the sureness, cockiness was gone from his gaze.

“What’s wrong?” Mark asked, idly, still caught on Lucas’s odd conclusion regarding Donghyuck.

“This is gonna sound really fucking stupid,” Lucas breathed, huffing out a nervous laugh. Mark forced himself to emerge from his confusion, to focus on Lucas.

Lucas pressed a thumb to Mark’s collarbone, to the spot where he’d lain the first mark, “Like really, but,” Lucas glanced back up at Mark, eyes uncertain, “it’s not there anymore?”

Shit, was all Mark could think.

Shit. He wasn’t fourteen, and fumbling around on a couch with the cute boy he’d met at his new high school’s gym. He was eighteen, and he had claws and a healing factor and he couldn’t even be marked up without it being ruined, couldn’t even be normal in that aspect.

Lucas must have misinterpreted Mark’s stunned look, because he laughed again, leaning back onto his heels. He scratched his hair, uncertain.

“The other ones too? I think I’m seeing things, or something.”

Mark searched his confused face. Every detail of it, every minute part of him was familiar to Mark’s eyes, every shining spot and every flaw. Adrenaline spiking, heart rate accelerating, Mark made a split second decision. He could clear Donghyuck’s name and he wouldn’t have to hide anything anymore from Lucas. He just had to be honest.

“Lucas,” Mark began, trying to swallow his anxiety, bury it down. If anyone was going to be able to see past the claws, it’d be Lucas.

Lucas looked up at the sound of his name, his brows knitted together.

Mark pulled himself up, extricating himself from under Lucas. He took a deep breath. He didn’t even know where to start with his confession.

“You’re not seeing things. The bruises, uh,” Mark closed his eyes, briefly, “they’ve probably already healed.”

Lucas again glanced down, to Mark’s collarbones. He looked back up, a single eyebrow raised.

“Ha?” he fell back onto the couch, folding his legs up. He sighed, then said, “Baby, you’re a lot of things. Funny isn’t one of them.”

Mark winced. He slid forward, towards Lucas, putting his unblemished skin in full display of the light coming off the television screen.

“I’m not joking, though,” Mark summoned his courage.

For some reason, he was finding it harder to plunge straight into this than he’d found it to race into that alleyway after the robbers, or confront the man with the knife. He pulled his hands forward, interlaced his fingers atop his lap.

“You wanna know why I’ve been spending so much time with Donghyuck? It’s not because he likes me, or anything like that,” Mark watched Lucas’s mouth twist, pull into an unconvinced frown. “Donghyuck’s been helping me out.”

“I don’t see what that has to do with...,” Lucas cut himself off, waved vaguely at Mark’s chest, neck. Mark sighed, willing the right words to come to him. He drew his hand up.

“A few days ago, some weird things started happening to me. I started to heal real fast. Cuts, scrapes, knife wounds… bruises too, I guess-- they’re all gone seconds after I get them.”

Mark searched Lucas’s face, for comprehension. All he saw was worry, worry which propelled him on, “I’m stronger than I used to be. That’s why I got kicked off the team. I couldn’t control my own strength.”

Mark exhaled, measured, then curled his fingers in. He couldn’t even maintain eye contact with Lucas, as he extended his claws out.

“I also got these.”

Mark heard a sharp inhale, felt the couch shift and heard it creak, as Lucas jumped up and away from him. Mark forced himself to raise his eyes, to look up at Lucas. Lucas was staring at him. No, at his claws.

Mark nearly stopped breathing to see the fear, the disgust so plainly written across his face. He felt as if he was going to choke, seeing Lucas look at him that way. As if he was some kind of monster.

“What the fuck are those? Where’d they come from?”

Mark’s heart felt hollow, rigid like blown glass. It felt like all it would take was one bump, one nudge, and it’d break into a million pieces.

“They’re claws. They-they came from me. They’re a part of me, Lucas,” Mark looked down. He wished that the blood rimming the scarred over slits in between his knuckles wasn’t there. He wished that his claws didn’t look like they belonged to an animal, rather than him.

Mark raised his fist, the claws. Slowly, gently, but Lucas still hissed and stepped back, knocking into the coffee table. He looked away, away from Mark.

“Just touch them. They’re not scary, Lucas, I promise, if you just feel them,” Mark felt his eyes start to burn, as Lucas shook his head, his face still turned from Mark’s. Desperately, Mark pleaded, “If you would just look at them.”

Lucas shook his head again, more violently, his eyes somewhere at the edge of the room, unreachable, “Are you fucking-- I’m not touching those.”

Mark swallowed, imagined the block, the pull. It took longer than it should have, with how his heart was racing, but he managed to draw his claws back in. He wiped his knuckles off on his jeans, but he didn’t get all the blood off the first time, and had to do it again. Panic was making his breath come in short and shallow bursts.

“Look. Look, they’re gone.”

Mark reached forward, reached out to Lucas, to show him. Lucas flinched away from his touch. And Mark froze. And his glass heart shattered.

Lucas faced Mark, finally, far too late, and what made it all worse was that Mark could see his lower lip trembling. He had to bite it to keep it still and even then he couldn’t quite manage it, “I think you should leave.”

“Right now?” Mark asked, voice tiny, strained. It was a nonsensical question, but he couldn’t make sense of anything right then, anyways.

“Fuck, Mark,” Lucas’s voice didn’t sound much better, “Yes. You stay here another second, I’m gonna start crying too.”

Too?

Mark swiped at the corner of his eyes, surprised, only to find when he drew away his hand, it was wet, shining.

“God, I know I’m being an ass right now. I’m sorry, Mark,” Lucas swallowed, voice thick with emotion. He looked away again, blinking hard, “But I can’t even fucking look at you. I can’t. I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry to end it like… like this.”

And with that, Lucas stumbled away, nearly tripping over the coffee table in his haste to leave.

On screen, the action movie’s protagonist leapt through a broken window out of a burning building, falling to perilous depths below. Mark sniffed. With Lucas’s apologies ringing in his ears, he gathered his shirt, his shoes, his keys, and walked out the front door. The dew soaked through the bottoms of his socks as he walked to his car, slow, shuffling, as if in a daze.

Mark started the car and just sat still, his hands curled around the wheel, listening to the radio. He let the familiar beat of the oldies song that was playing wash over him, losing himself in it.

The song ended, abruptly, and an advertisement began. Mark felt his mood shift, switching in the span of one second to the next. A cheery voice started in on pest removal services, and Mark’s claws were out before he knew it. Snarling, he plunged them into the car radio, slashing it deep, sending buttons and dials flying.

The audio cut out with a fizzle, and in the sudden silence and stillness of the night Mark was left staring at the three gashes he’d cut in his car. His chest was heaving, his claws were out, and the sickening sense that he was something less than human started to fill him.

Before the bell to start the day even rang out, Mark had people coming up to him and asking him where Lucas was. It was kind of annoying, the constant reminder that he’d scared Lucas off but, selfishly, he was glad Lucas had chosen to skip out on school. Sitting next to an empty desk in all his classes was bad enough, having to see Lucas again so soon would only worsen it.

He walked into the science classroom, alone. He made eye contact with Donghyuck, seated at the back of the classroom, and had to look away. Seeing Donghyuck somehow made the ache in his chest worsen too.

Mark slid into his seat. He waited silently for the professor to enter the room and for class to begin, listening to the rain outside lash against the windows, drowning out his classmates’ conversations. He didn’t even twitch when he felt the sensation, the familiar feeling of eyes trained at the back of his head.

After class ended, Mark paused outside the classroom door, realizing a few steps too late that his feet were automatically carrying him to the library. But Lucas wouldn’t be there waiting for him. He looked behind himself, back, the direction that would lead him away from the library.

He felt an inexplicable feeling of relief when Donghyuck walked out from the classroom, saving him from having to deliberate any longer. Donghyuck’s brows were drawn together, in concern, as he walked up to Mark.

“Did something happen yesterday? There wasn’t anything in the news but you look--,” Donghyuck paused, his eyes sliding to some point above Mark’s shoulder, “But you look like crap, so. Figured I’d ask.”

Mark choked out a laugh, surprising himself. He recalled what Lucas and he had talked about yesterday, before he had the bright idea to bring out his claws and it all went to shit.

He’s so obvious about you, Lucas had said. The only thing Donghyuck was obvious about was his belief that Mark was some kind of reckless idiot.

“No,” Mark answered. He lowered his voice even though the few in between period stragglers were too far from them to possibly overhear him, “I swear I didn’t thwart a single robbery or save a single life yesterday. Scout’s honor.”

“Mark,” Donghyuck sighed.  

He looked tired, Mark realized, suddenly. It was hard to tell, between his gaze which alternated from stone hard and fiery hot. But Donghyuck had dark circles under his eyes. His hair was even more mussed than usual, as if he’d been running his hands through it incessantly. Mark paused, feeling at odds. He wasn’t used to seeing Donghyuck so discomposed.

“That’s not the point. It’s not what you’re doing that bothers me. I get why you’re doing it. I just hate that you think it has to be you,” Donghyuck sounded frustrated, “You’re so-- You’re just--”

“--an imbecile? Reckless?” Mark filled in for him, wry grin spreading across his lips.

He was starting to see where Donghyuck was coming from with his opinions on Mark, though. Jumping in to tell Lucas everything that had happened to him had been impulsive, and he’d paid for it.

“I mean...” Donghyuck trailed off. He was searching for something in Mark’s face. His eyes were wide, warm, and Mark could almost delude himself into thinking that was worry on his brow. Worry for Mark.

Mark’s lips lifted up, in a real smile. He hated to think it, but maybe Donghyuck was right to be concerned. Before, in the case with the man with the knife and the jewelry robbery, Mark hadn’t been looking for people to help and crimes to stop. He’d just jumped in, impulsively, recklessly.

But maybe Mark ought to start seeking out people to help. Maybe he could show that, though he looked like a monster, he didn’t have to behave in monstrous ways. He could use his powers for good. He could use everything that made him abnormal, a freak, to save people.

And he could be smart about it, too. Maybe even smart enough that Donghyuck himself couldn’t find fault with him. Mark could prepare, he could be able to find out what sort of danger he’s dealing with before he heads into it straight on.

“Don’t worry, Donghyuck. From now on, I’ll try and think things through a little more.”

Mark told Donghyuck he’d see him in detention, then started towards the library. He felt Donghyuck’s eyes on him until he turned the corner.

Mark downloaded a police scanner app on his phone. He plugged his headphones in and listened to it, brows drawn low, his notebooks and pencils lain out on the table in front of him.

He jotted down notes for himself ( ‘mask’ underlined twice, ‘weapon’ with a question mark following it, ‘shoes that aren’t sneakers’ scratched out, followed up by ‘karate lessons’ ) as he listened to the codes, the addresses. Whenever he heard the female dispatcher say a street name he recognized, he felt a pang.

It was made all the worse that he didn’t have the faintest idea what the codes meant.

During lunch period, instead of spending his time awkwardly making conversation with a group of people who were more Lucas’s friends than his, anyways, Mark went to his school’s computer lab.

He monopolized the printer, printing out an entire list of police scanner codes and their attached meanings that he’d found online. He stapled it neatly at the corner, drew out the highlighter that he’d only ever broken out for end of semester exams, and started highlighting.

He didn’t finish in the period, but Mark didn’t risk breaking out his police codes during detention. Not while Donghyuck kept sneaking unsubtle glances his way. Mark turned to a fresh page in his notebook and doodled the entire period, drawing puppy dogs and great big imagined beasts with fangs that dripped black-inked blood.

Mark was the first to leave the detention room that day. He was eager to go home. He’d remembered that his mother might have kept some of the baseball bats she had bought his sophomore year for that one disastrous season where he thought he could be a multi-sport athlete.

That would be a decent weapon, he figured. You couldn’t accidentally murder someone with a baseball bat.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Donghyuck called, at his back, jolting him from his thoughts. Mark winced, then turned.

Sheepishly, he began, “I, uh.”

Donghyuck walked up to him, slow. His eyes were inscrutable, crackling like a low fire.

“Take me home?” he asked. Then, immediately, “You could spend the night.”

Mark was hesitant to agree. He was fine with driving Donghyuck, of course. But spending the night would delay his plans. It’d mean putting off his transition to slightly more responsible crime-fighting. All he wanted was the chance to prove that his claws didn’t have to hurt. That they could help.

Donghyuck seemed to sense his indecision, because his eyes widened.

“The guys were planning a Lord of the Rings marathon,” he said, in a rush, “And God knows I need someone to keep me entertained through that. Just… please?”

Mark blinked. He tried to recall the last time he’d heard Donghyuck ask politely for him to do something. He was coming up blank. He was so taken aback, he could only nod in agreement.

If Donghyuck was desperate enough to say please, Mark thought he could find it in himself to push back his plans another day.

When Donghyuck slipped into his car, and his eyes immediately caught on the three gashes through the car’s dashboard, Mark felt the blood drain from his face. Somehow, he hadn’t even considered that he should probably have warned Donghyuck of them beforehand.

Donghyuck looked from the damage, to Mark. Mark had to look away. He was afraid of what Donghyuck could tell, just by looking at him. He started the car, and tried to focus on driving.

“I got tired of listening to the same ads over and over,” Mark shrugged.

“You didn’t consider-- oh, I dunno, maybe changing the station before eviscerating your car?” Donghyuck asked, disbelieving.

Mark didn’t want to look at him. He didn’t want to see the pitying expression on his face. Hearing it in his voice was enough. He sighed.

“Leave it, Donghyuck.”

“What happened yesterday?” Donghyuck prodded, angry. Mark knew that, if he looked over, he’d see fire in Donghyuck’s eyes.

“I said to leave it,” Mark repeated. He wasn’t going to budge. He just had to hold out until they got to Chenle’s house.

What he didn’t expect was for Donghyuck to actually give, to let it drop. He heard a soft noise, the sound of Donghyuck falling back against his seat.

“Alright,” Donghyuck’s voice was odd enough that Mark had to glance his way.

Donghyuck had his arms crossed over his chest, his brows knitted together in thought. When he caught Mark looking at him, his expression changed. He shifted into aggravation.

“Don’t watch me, idiot. Watch the road.”

Mark barked out a short laugh as he turned back to the front. Once again, he shocked himself with his own laughter.

After only a few minutes had passed, Donghyuck exclaimed that he couldn’t endure a car ride without music. He set his phone up on the dashboard of Mark’s car. Even though he turned the volume all the way up, the music coming from his phone was at just the right level for Mark to catch Donghyuck singing along sometimes, softly, under his breath.

By the time they got to Chenle’s, Mark was hardly aware of the cold ache in his chest. The one that had settled in him from the moment Lucas had flinched away from him.

It was hard to feel gloomy, listening to Donghyuck sing. Mark would never have guessed, back when he only knew as Donghyuck the kid who sat at the back of the classroom, that Donghyuck could have such a nice voice. High and honey sweet. It was enough to make anyone smile upon hearing it.

The moment Mark walked into the living room, Chenle’s face fell.

“Oh,” Chenle said, sounding as though he himself was in pain.

Mark had to suppress a sigh. He’d feared Chenle might pick up on some lasting impression from the breakup. But he’d hoped that, if Chenle had, he’d at least take enough pity on Mark not to comment.

Jeno, Jaemin, and Renjun looked in vague curiosity at Chenle, for his odd reaction to Mark’s entrance.

“Hey, guys!” Mark tried for a chipper tone.

Donghyuck frowned at Chenle for a beat too long before turning his gaze to the rest of the guys seated around the room, “Mark’s gonna be joining us for the gay hobbit movie marathon tonight.”

And, just like that, the tension in the room broke. Renjun turned away from Chenle, to Donghyuck. He huffed, exasperated.

“Hyuck, I know you’re not mischaracterizing Sam and Frodo’s friendship. They have one of the greatest platonic bonds between men in all of fiction.”

“Platonic, my ass,” Donghyuck scoffed. He fell onto the couch by Jeno, nearly dislodging Jeno’s laptop from his lap in the process.

Mark allowed himself to slip into ease, allowed himself a laugh at Donghyuck’s comment. He had no clue what Renjun and Donghyuck were arguing over, and he was probably a bit too excited to find out. He moved forward, to take a seat by Donghyuck, only to once again be cut down by Chenle.

“Mark,” Chenle jumped up, intercepting Mark before he could sit. He jerked his head towards the kitchen, determined expression on his face, “Can you help me with the snacks?”

Mark pressed his lips together. He glanced at Donghyuck as he continued his debate with Renjun, as Jeno and Jaemin watched on in bemusement. He looked back to Chenle. He was as serious as Mark had ever seen him, the corners of his lips ticked down in a frown. He wasn’t going to drop this, Mark realized.

Shoulders falling, Mark nodded, “Alright. Let’s go.”

Minutes later, Mark stood with his back to Chenle, watching the popcorn bag inflate within the microwave.

“We were going to break up anyways,” Mark said, though Chenle hadn’t asked.

Neither of them had spoken, since they’d gotten to the kitchen. Mark had waited, and waited for the question to come. But when it hadn’t, he realized he’d just have to get it out of the way.

“It was just a matter of time,” Mark tacked on, turning to face Chenle. He didn’t bother plastering on a smile. Not when Chenle would’ve seen right through him in an instant anyways.

Chenle looked pained, his mouth a grim line, his brows drawn together. In the background, Mark could hear the spikes in volume as Renjun and Donghyuck’s debate raged on in the living room.

“You and… Wong Lucas?” Chenle asked, “You guys split? Wow.”

Mark could tell that Chenle was trying to come off neutral, to subdue his reactions for Mark’s sake. He nodded.

“Yeah. Turns out claws aren’t a big kink of his,” Mark said, airily. He wasn’t bitter. He wasn’t.

Lucas hadn’t known when he’d started dating Mark that Mark would sprout claws, grow into something resembling an animal. Lucas had liked a boy that just… wasn’t Mark. Not anymore. He’d liked a boy Mark had no desire to go back to being. If Mark really searched within himself, he couldn’t deny that the Lucas he’d fallen for, the Lucas he’d started dating, wasn’t the same as the one who’d broken up with him.

“You showed him?” Chenle hissed, his eyes darting back in the direction of the living room.

The microwave beeped, and Mark turned around to fetch the bag of popcorn. Chenle brought over a bowl for him.

As he poured out the bag, Mark tried to explain himself, “I thought... I dunno what I was thinking, really. But the truth would’ve come out sooner or later, right?”

That’s what Mark had to tell himself. And sooner or later, Lucas would’ve jumped back from him in disgust and fear. Sooner or later, Lucas would tell Mark that he couldn’t even look at him anymore, and he would’ve told Mark to leave.

“Mark,” Chenle’s voice was so quiet, it was almost a whisper. He didn’t catch Mark’s eye, didn’t look up from where he gazed at where the bowl sat on the countertop, “Did you ever wonder why all of us are here, why you never see any of our parents-- not even my own?”

Mark felt a chill, upon being hit with the hurt Chenle that radiated off from Chenle in waves. He wondered why, all of a sudden, he could feel what Chenle was feeling so viscerally. If it might have been because their hurts were so similar, because they were almost attuned.

“A little, yeah,” Mark replied, careful.

Chenle looked up, his eyes wide, “Everyone-- every single of the guys-- they’ve all been through something like you went through with your boyfriend. Jaemin and Injunnie got kicked out. Jeno had to run away.”

Mark inhaled, deeply. He thought of how Jaemin always laughed, how Jeno never lacked a smile. Even Renjun had seemed untouchable, before he’d told Mark the reason he never dared to leave the townhouse. Mark was starting to see that they all had their motivations for what Mark had first mistaken for overcaution. They all had their own burdens.

But. Mark felt guilty, because his thoughts kept coming back to one of the guys in particular. He feared asking. He didn’t know what would be worse; knowing about Donghyuck’s past, or not. He didn’t know whether to feel relieved or not, when Chenle opened his mouth once more.

“Hyuckie only sees his parents once a month, and those days are the worst. He always comes back and locks himself in his room and it’s useless. Doors can’t block what he’s feeling.”

Mark felt an ache, deep within him. Trampling on the pieces of his shattered heart. He understood why Chenle was telling him, to let him know that there were others nearby, who’d undergone the same rejection. But it hurt.

“What about you, Chenle?” he asked, because Chenle hadn’t mentioned his own story. Chenle still had this home. He had to be connected with his parents, somehow. There had to be one happy ending, somewhere.

“Ah.”

Chenle turned away, walked towards the pantry, as if to fetch something from it. But after he opened it, he just continued to stand there, looking within. After a beat, Mark noticed his shoulders had hiked up, gone rigid.

Mark walked over to him and, though he couldn't summon a happy memory, he still placed a hand on Chenle’s shoulder. He figured a sympathetic touch could be more comforting than none at all.

“My parents-- they love me. No, they adore me. They offer to buy me anything I want. Clothes for all my friends. The newest electronics,” Chenle looked up at Mark, with a wobbly smile, “This house.”

“That’s not so bad, then,” Mark said, trying to understand Chenle’s mood, trying to drum up some positive emotions.

“It is when I know they didn’t used to feel that way towards me,” Chenle said, soft, “They used to be indifferent. I was just another thing for them to show off. Then they loved me. Somewhere in between, my powers showed up.”

Mark slowly realized what Chenle was saying, why he felt awful that his parents adored him. He swallowed, as his stomach dropped. His hand froze on Chenle’s shoulder.

“Oh,” he said, his throat constricting, making it impossible to say anything else. He didn’t know if he was picking up on Chenle’s heartache or his own, but it was all compounding, adding to each other.

“It’s kinda scary? Because I know that if I undid whatever I did to them, they’d take it all away. They’d do the same thing to me that all my friends’ parents did to them, that Lucas did to you.”

In a way, Mark thought, Chenle had it worse than any of them.

“I know it’s not exactly right, but screw them, Chenle,” Mark said, determined, sure, “You’re a good kid. You’re doing a good thing for your friends who don’t really have a lot of good things in their lives.”

Mark didn’t know about anything else, but he knew that at least was true.

“Thanks,” Chenle sniffed. His wobbly grin widened, “Ugh. I was supposed to be comforting you. I was trying to say that you don’t have to keep it bottled up. Every guy out there knows what you’re going through. This didn’t go anyway like how I wanted it to.”

Mark smiled back at Chenle.

“Are you kidding me? Now I know that I’ve won. I officially have the lamest sob story in the room. You’re doing wonders for my ego.”

As they walked back to the living room, chips, popcorn, and soda in tow, Chenle turned to Mark.

“Hey, have you told Hyuckie that you and Lucas broke up yet?”

Mark’s brows drew together. He understood that he was probably closest to Donghyuck out of all of them, but the question still seemed a bit out of nowhere.

“No,” then, unable to quash his curiosity, Mark asked, “Why? Should I?”

Chenle looked at him, in confusion. Then, he burst out into laughter. He was still laughing when they joined the rest of the guys. Mark couldn’t even begin to understand why, but as Chenle’s laughter garnered curious looks from the guys, heat still rushed to his face.

He sat next to Donghyuck, cheeks burning. Donghyuck reached forward to get a handful of popcorn, looking on Mark with wide, curious eyes.

“Took you guys long enough. What’s so funny, anyways?”

Mark ducked, to hide his blush, as Jaemin started the movie and the first chords of the movie’s orchestral soundtrack played out.

“I can honestly say that I have no idea what he’s laughing about.”

Somehow, over the course of the first movie, they all shifted from where they’d first sat down. They moved closer together. First, it was Renjun. He complained of feeling left out in the recliner and moved to perch on the back of the couch. He sat behind Mark, one leg folded up, the other thrown over by Mark’s shoulder. Mark laughed, as Donghyuck scolded Renjun and tried futilely to move his leg off of Mark.

Mark assented, softly, when Chenle asked permission to lean on him. Chenle dropped his head on Mark’s vacant shoulder and Mark barely had time to relax before Jaemin whined that he wanted to sit by Mark too. Jaemin moved onto the floor, in between Mark’s legs. When Donghyuck hissed at him to leave, saying that his tail was blocking the screen, Mark laughed again. His stomach was starting to hurt, from all the laughing.

Finally, Jeno insisted that he was tired of reaching over Donghyuck for the popcorn. He got up and squeezed himself in between Mark and Donghyuck.

“I literally hate all of you,” Donghyuck pouted, after he’d been banished to the far end of the couch. He had a look of betrayal on his face, and his arms were crossed tightly over his chest.

“Aw, Hyuckie, there’s room for you too!”

Chenle reached forward and plucked the popcorn bowl from Mark’s lap, starting a new round of laughter from all save Mark and Donghyuck.

Mark couldn’t even look at Donghyuck. It was partially out of fear of what Mark might see on his face, but mostly out of embarrassment that heated his cheeks up all over again.

“On second thought,” Donghyuck’s voice sounded strained, “I’m just fine where I am now, actually.”

Mark swallowed, around the sudden lump that had appeared in his throat. He wondered why everything had to be much more embarrassing when it came to Donghyuck, why he couldn’t just laugh with the rest of the guys.

He reached forward, took the popcorn bowl from Chenle. He brought it back down to his lap, sending a few kernels flying in his haste.

“Wow,” Mark started, a bit too loud, “You guys weren’t kidding about the tension between the little guy and his friend with the red hair.”

“Right?” Donghyuck seized upon Mark’s observation, seemingly just as desperate to change the subject.

“‘Little guy’,” Renjun snorted. He reached forward, tugged on Mark’s ear, “Hobbit. Watch out, Myrtle, someone might think you’ve never seen a Lord of the Rings movie before.”

Not wanting to incriminate himself, Mark stayed silent. Turns out, that was just as incriminating as if he’d opened his mouth.

“...What?” Jaemin looked over his shoulder at Mark, mouth agape. In the dim of the living room, he looked indigo, “Oh my God. This is why you can’t trust jocks.”

“But, Jaemin, I used to be a jock,” Jeno pointed out, sounding hurt.

“Your point?” Jaemin made a face, schooling his expression into something unimpressed, a feat that only lasted for only a moment or two. Then, his grin broke out again, his teeth glinting white against his skin. And the room burst out in laughter.

Mark couldn’t pinpoint exactly when but sometime between the end of the second movie and one big battle in the third, he fell asleep where he was sitting. When he woke the next morning, crick in his neck and all, he had to smile.

Over the course of the night, they’d all somehow coalesced into one big pile on the couch. Mark’s gaze slid over to Donghyuck, where he was strewn atop Jeno, and his smile softened.

Donghyuck looked so peaceful asleep. His hair was a complete mess but, beneath it, his brow was clear, smooth, his worries distant. His dark lashes fanned out over his cheeks, and his mouth was relaxed, loosely ticked up at one corner. In sleep, Donghyuck didn’t have dark circles beneath his eyes. He looked his age, not prematurely aged by everything life had foisted on him.

Mark looked away, quickly, when he suddenly realized how creepy he was being. But, as he extricated himself from beneath Renjun’s wing and started to brush tiny, fluffy feathers from his shirt, he let his mind wander. He let himself imagine what Donghyuck could be dreaming of, to make him smile like that as he slept.

As soon as Mark arrived back to his house, he started in on his crime fighting plans. He walked into the kitchen, saw his mother standing in front of the stove, one hand placed on her hip. He went over to her and pecked her on the cheek.

“Morning, mom! You wouldn’t happen to know if we have any masks lying around, would you?”

His mother laughed and nudged him away from the stove.

“There’s oil flying everywhere! Scoot outta the way, kid,” she shook her head at him, smiling, fond. Then she hummed, “And, no, I don’t think so. You could check the costume box up in our closet? I think your father might still have that mask from when he dressed up as the Phantom of the Opera a few Halloweens back.”

Mark blanched. He tried to imagine a bunch of facing, looming criminals taking him seriously if he showed up looking like some dude cosplaying a cape-wearing emo from a musical.

“Uh, no. I don’t think that’s exactly what I’m looking for,” he waved, then started up towards his room. Maybe he had something tucked away in his own closet that he could use to conceal his identity, “Thanks for the help, though, mom!”

Mark felt a pang as she sighed goodnaturedly, after him. As she asked herself what she was gonna do with him. Mark could still hear Chenle’s confession echoing in his ears. Felt more aware than ever that he was the only one still on good terms with his parents.

As Mark took the stairs two at a time and bounded into his bedroom, he happened upon a thought that alleviated the pang, just a little. Though it’d never be the same, though he couldn’t even really begin to fill the void left by the rest of the guys’ parents, Mark decided he’d try to be there for them, as long as he was able.

After Mark overturned his closet and came up with nothing, he took to his sock drawer, as a last ditch effort. Buried among his socks and briefs, he found a white bandana. Mark pulled it out, considering. He didn’t even remember why he had it. Maybe he’d gotten it for their school’s annual whiteout game, in support of Lucas. Mark winced. Well, he probably wouldn’t be using it for that purpose again in the future.

He shuffled over to his mirror. He folded the bandana into a triangle, tied it around his neck, then tugged it up so it covered the lower half of his face.

Mark glanced at his door, ensuring it was shut, before curling his hands into fists and extending out his claws. He looked dumb as shit, but at least he looked unrecognizable. He consoled himself with thinking that at least the bandana was leagues better than a Phantom of the Opera mask would have been.

It didn’t take long for Mark to have to put his bandana to use. Mark had finally gotten around to muting the freaks’ groupchat so he could actually try and get some homework done when a sound like a firework going off rang out through his neighborhood. Mark sucked in a breath. When there wasn’t the crackle, the fizzle that should have come after the bang, he shot up from his desk.

He grabbed the bandana off his desser and tucked it into his back pocket. He snuck downstairs, already plugging in his headphones and tuning into the police scanner. He saw his father’s silhouette in the living room, as he crept to the front door as quietly as possible. Mark wondered if his father had heard the gunshot, how close it had been. He turned the volume up on his phone, tuning all else out but the female dispatcher.

-- suspected home invasion in progress at 4413 Flint Lane --

Mark hissed. Five streets over. His parents used to take him to that street to play in their cul-de-sac, he recalled. When it rained hard enough, it turned the whole street into a lake, some spots with water deep enough to reach the tops of his velcro sneakers.

“Mark?”

The top of his father’s head was just visible over the back of his chair, as he turned to peer curiously in his direction. Mark panicked. Not now. He didn’t have time for this now.

“Uh. My friend and I... we, uh, forgot we had this big project due tomorrow so I just gotta zip out for a bit. Sorry!” he stuttered through an excuse.

-- unit inbound, twenty-five minutes out --

Mark could get there in two. If his father let him off now without anymore questions, that was.

“Oh. Good luck, then, son! Try not to procrastinate so much in the future,” his father said, cheery, before turning back to his program. Mark didn’t let himself revel in his victory beyond a sigh of relief. As soon as he closed the door behind him, he was running, jumping in his car.

Mark parked his car at the beginning of the street, right by the street sign. Then he sprinted the rest of the length of it. He recognized the home in question by its front door, flung open, before he even saw the address.

The homes surrounding 4413 Flint Lane all had their lights turned on. Mark could see silhouettes of their neighbors standing in the window as he raced by, his puffing breaths making his bandana billow out. He tried not to judge them for just standing there, watching. He would’ve been like that too, he rationalized, before he became a freak with claws.

When he couldn’t see anyone directly visible through the open door, Mark just walked straight in. He heard a raised voice conducting a heated, possibly one-sided conversation within the house, and followed the sound. Mark drew back, hid behind a wall, as he peered into what looked to be the home’s kitchen. There was a group of four people cowering at the kitchen’s table. A family. A mother, father, and two little boys, all with terrified expressions on their faces.

Mark saw why, one moment later. There was a guy with a switchblade, and he had it pointed straight at the father. Mark’s eye caught on the blade, wondering at the sound of the gunshot. Mark looked up at the guy’s face, wincing when he saw that he, like Mark, had it covered with some kind of cloth. Maybe the masked guy wasn’t the only invader here. Maybe there was another one, somewhere within the house.

Mark looked behind him, quickly, and the coast looked clear. He looked back at the family. The youngest boy had tracks of tears down his face, a snot bubble near bursting point on his nose, as he sobbed. Mark swallowed, his heart pounding in his chest. He’d take his chances.

Mark jumped into the room, barely let the switchblade guy get out a, “What the f--?” before he was on him.

Mark knocked the knife from his hand, let it skitter on the kitchen’s tiled floor. Then, still afraid of knocking someone out without breaking their jaw, Mark punched the guy in the stomach. He cried out and curled over, holding his stomach, making gagging noises. Mark let out a breath of relief.

He placed a hand on the guy’s shoulder. Given that Mark had already weakened him, it was easy to shove the masked guy down to his knees. Mark held a hand on him to keep him still. He ignored the man’s moans of “Why’d you do that, dude? What the fuck! Ow.” and turned to the family.

“Do you guys have anything I could tie his hands up with?” Mark asked. He watched their blank faces, the confusion creeping in on the utter terror that had previously been there. He waited a beat for an answer, then sighed, “Like zip ties or, like, rope or duct tape or something? I don’t know. Just until the cops arrive.”

The mother blinked at him. The father made a choked out noise. The older boy whispered an awed, “Whoa.”

Mark set his mouth. So that was a dead end. He turned back to the masked guy. He was starting to recover from the punch to the gut, starting to struggle in his hold. Mark curled his hand into a fist. He didn’t want to use his claws. Not unless he absolutely needed to. He didn’t want to hurt anyone. He wasn’t an uncontrollable monster.

Mark figured that maybe, if he just slightly punched the guy in the head, he could knock him out without breaking anything.

He brought his arm back, was bringing it down to deliver the blow when one of the boys shouted out, “Hey, mister!” at the exact moment the mother cried, “He’s back!”

And that was the only warning Mark had. His senses had failed him. At the moment his fist connected with the masked guy’s face, a deafening bang pierced the air. Then another. Then a third. As the masked guy fell to the floor, Mark felt something hit him. It felt like the force of a brutal punch, but small. It tore through flesh and sinew, embedded itself deep within him, burning. Pain spread through the synapses of his body like fire.

Then another bullet hit him. Then a third.

Oh, Mark thought, as he fell to his knees with a stifled gasp. So that’s how it feels to get shot. All he could think was that the movies made it look a lot less painful.  

“Shit! No, no, no,” came a voice behind him. Belonging to the man who’d shot him. It wasn't cruel, nor was it mean. Rather, the voice’s owner was scared. And young. It might not a have belonged to a man at all.

Mark could still feel the bullets in his back. His body was trying to heal, was trying to push the bullets from him, expel them. But there was only so much his body could do.

Mark placed his palm on the ground, and pushed himself up with a grunt. He ignored the family’s gasps, the mother’s disbelieving exclamation to the father. Mark turned, and faced a boy who had to be younger than him, pointing the barrel of a massive handgun straight at his chest.

Mark raised his hands, carefully. Every movement pulled at the gunshot wounds in his back, sending fresh aches through him. He gritted his teeth, bit down so he couldn’t groan again.

“The cops are going to be here in fifteen minutes. Put the gun down.”

Mark didn’t even know what he was saying. He was speaking automatically, spewing whatever bullshit he thought might spare this panicked kid from shooting anyone else.

God, Mark thought. He’d been shot. Not just once, but three times. And he was standing up, holding a conversation.

The kid’s eyes were wide as saucers. His mouth was gaping open. The gun was shaking in his hand, the gun barrel poorly trained on Mark.

“Fuck this. Why aren’t you--?”

Mark didn’t know what to say to that either. This kid wasn’t thinking rationally, though, that much was clear. Mark needed to get the gun out of his hands.

“Yeah, I’m not dead. I’m fine,” Mark fudged the truth, a little bit. Fine was relative, “So put the gun down please, before you actually hurt someone.”

The boy sniffed. It looked like he was going to lower the gun. The barrel was already tilting downwards, lowering. Mark felt his heart leap even as his back ached with the unhealed wounds. He wondered if he’d really gotten through to the boy, if he hadn’t needed to resort to punching.

Then, the boy raised the gun back up in an instant. Mark’s heart dropped, as he trained the barrel not at Mark, but beyond him, at the family seated at the kitchen table. Mark saw the boy’s finger twitch, and he lunged forward, not thinking beyond shielding the four innocent people sitting at their kitchen table. The mother screamed a bloodcurdling scream.

A fourth bullet hit him, this time in the shoulder. Mark cried out, as he felt it tear into him. He extended his claws in an instant, slashed the gun before the boy could fire it again. The boy watched, with a choked off sob, as the gun was sliced in half, as the barrel slid off the handle and fell to the floor tiles with a clatter.

“What the fuck?” the boy sobbed, eyes moving erratically from the gun handle he still held to Mark’s claws, “What the shit, man? What the shit was that?”

Mark brought his left fist back. He let the claws slide back in on one hand while he kept the boy pinned with fear with the other. Then he exhaled, brought his fist forward and, with a punch light enough not to break a thing, knocked the boy out.

Chest heaving, four bullets in him, Mark turned back to the family.

“I’m gonna go now,” he panted, his words muffled through his bandana, “Cops’ll be here soon. Uh,” he tried to think of some parting wisdom. Something significant to say, “Sorry about the mess. Okay, have a good night.”

Well, shit, Mark thought, as he stumbled out of the home, sheathing his claws. At least he wasn’t wearing a white shirt. It would have been even more difficult to sneak past the neighbors’ homes with a shirt soaked red with blood.

Mark realized he had a big problem when he got back to his car. He’d driven off, far enough away from the scene of the invasion that he couldn’t hear the police sirens anymore. But, as he examined the gunshot wound in his shoulder, he realized why it wasn’t healing the same as the knife wounds he’d gotten. He discovered why his back still ached with every breath he took and every movement he made.

The bullets were stuck. Mark swallowed around the sudden bile rising to his throat. He prodded at the butt of the bullet stuck in his shoulder. He took a deep breath, then pushed into the wound with his index finger. With a gasp, he dug in, and pulled out the bullet. He took short, heaving breaths, as he peered at the bloody lump of metal in his palm. It was so, so small to have hurt so much.

He looked back at his shoulder. It was healing over, the hole left behind by the bullet closing in itself, shrinking. Mark felt his heart sink, as he made one feeble stretch to his back, finding it useless. He couldn’t get the rest of the bullets out, not by himself.

Wincing, Mark pocketed the first bullet. He wiped the blood off his hand on his jeans, then pulled out his phone. All he asked Donghyuck in his message was if he could come over, that he needed his help with something. No need to worry Donghyuck unnecessarily, he figured. He definitely wasn’t just scared to tell Donghyuck that he’d been shot. Definitely not that.

The moment the door opened a crack and Mark could see a sliver of Donghyuck’s face, he started to speak.

“I can explain--.”

“Is that blood?” Donghyuck’s voice was tiny, distant. He looked from the hole torn in the shoulder of Mark’s shirt to Mark’s face.

Mark took a deep breath, and started to recount the events of the night to Donghyuck. As he talked, Donghyuck’s face shifted. It went from fearful to neutral, growing more and more impassive by the word. The flames in his eyes smoldered as he clasped Mark with unexpected gentleness around the wrist, and dragged him indoors.

Donghyuck led Mark up to his room, barked at him to stay still and not hurt himself further, if he could manage it. Then he left the room again, closing the door behind him. Mark sighed.

He really had tried harder to prepare. He had tried to think through some semblance of a strategy. It had just all gone to shit the moment he’d put it into play. He didn’t expect Donghyuck to want to hear that excuse, though.

Mark looked up from a whorl on the wood floor he’d been examining when the door clicked open. Donghyuck slipped in. He directed his gaze low, at Mark’s sneakers, but the crackling fires within his eyes were still fully visible beneath his bangs. Mark felt his stomach bottom out. He’d known Donghyuck wouldn’t be happy with him, but he hadn’t expected him to be this angry.

“I’m sorry,” he said, weakly.

“Why’re you apologizing to me?” Donghyuck asked, gruff.

Then, his eyes still not meeting Mark’s, he went to his desk and set the things in his hands down. Fresh towels, a bowl of water. Tweezers, it looked like. Even band-aids, Mark realized, his heart lurching.

“Can you--,” Donghyuck started, then paused, “Can you take your shirt off?”

Finally, something cracked through his impassive facade, some intonation. His voice sounded strained, tight.

“When you’re done, sit down on the bed.”

Mark thought it best to comply. There was no use asking questions when Donghyuck was acting like this. It seemed Mark had already stressed him enough. He didn’t want to add to it.

Donghyuck lay out a towel over his comforter for Mark. After Mark sat down on it, Donghyuck then settled behind him. Donghyuck had his legs crooked, loosely framing Mark, his socked feet by each side of Mark’s hips.

Mark tried not to let his thoughts wander, tried not to think much of anything at all, as Donghyuck dipped a towel in the bowl of water and slowly started to wipe the blood from Mark’s back.

It was silent enough in the room that you could hear a pin drop. Mark could hear someone next door, either Jeno, Jaemin, or Chenle, listening to rap music. He could hear Donghyuck’s breathing, uneven. It hitched with almost every press of the cool, damp towel to Mark’s skin. There was an unidentifiable tension that lay thick in the air, a spell Mark didn’t know if he wanted to break.

Donghyuck broke it for him.

“I’m gonna take them out now,” he said. Mark ached to hear the forced quality of Donghyuck’s voice, like there was a weight on his chest.

“Okay,” Mark agreed, quiet, still loathe to change the mood in the room.

The bed shifted under him as Donghyuck got up. Mark glanced at Donghyuck’s face as he went to his desk to gather some more supplies.

Donghyuck’s gaze was cast low, his mouth twisted. Mark couldn’t detect the fires in his eyes. Mark looked away as Donghyuck started to return, back in the direction of a door that might have led to Donghyuck’s closet.

Donghyuck’s room was so empty, Mark realized. It was nearly bare. There was only his bed, his desk. When he’d first walked in, he’d spotted some textbooks placed atop the shelf over his bed. But that was it. There was no personality, nothing Donghyuck had placed specially in the room just for himself. Perhaps when he’d been kicked out from his home, he hadn’t had time to take much with him.

Mark swallowed, as he was filled once again with that desire to be there for Donghyuck, for the rest of the guys.

Donghyuck settled behind Mark again. He must have tucked his legs under him, this time. His toes weren’t brushing up against the outside of Mark’s thighs any longer.

Mark nearly jumped when he felt Donghyuck’s hand on his shoulder. Then, just as quickly as it had landed on him, it was off again. Just one brief moment of heat in contrast to the cool air hitting his bare skin.

“Sorry,” Donghyuck hissed, “Did I hurt you?”

Mark was confused what he meant, until he realized Donghyuck had grabbed onto the shoulder where he’d been shot.

He shook his head. He hadn’t been startled because of the pain.

“No. You just surprised me, that’s all.”

Donghyuck made a soft noise behind him, a hum. Then, hesitantly, Donghyuck placed his hand on his side. His fingers slotting neatly into the spaces between Mark’s ribs. Mark had to remind himself not to relax into Donghyuck’s touch. He was just so warm, every part of him. And Mark was drawn to him, like a moth to a flame.

“Sorry about this,” Donghyuck said. Mark detected a note of something new in his voice, some charged quality, “I needed to hold onto... somewhere. I’m gonna start now. Do you want me to count down for you?”

“‘S fine. And, please, just do it as quick as you can,” Mark wanted them gone, out of his body. He could feel the metal there, embedded within him, cold and painful.

Donghyuck made a scoffing sound under his breath, but he did as Mark asked. He pulled out the first bullet, and Mark tried not to react, tried not to make a sound. But it was futile trying to hide his erratic breathing with Donghyuck’s hand on his side. Donghyuck, thankfully, let it pass without comment. But he pulled the second and third bullets out quicker than anything, not drawing it out, ending it blessedly quick.

Mark heard the soft, inexplicable sound of paper crackling. Then felt a light pressure, as Donghyuck pressed a band-aid over the spot where he had drawn out the first bullet. Then heard the same sound and felt the same light pressure as Donghyuck placed a second and third band-aid over the other bullet wounds.

Mark swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat. He drew his legs up onto the bed and turned around to face Donghyuck.

“You didn’t have to do that. They’re going to be gone in a minute anyways.”

Donghyuck let out a sigh. He looked pained, the dark circles under his eyes more prominent than ever. Absurdly, Mark wanted to ask if he was sleeping okay, if he’d been getting too much schoolwork lately and needed help.

“Shut up, Mark.”

Donghyuck reached forward for Mark’s hand, brought it out to drop the bullets into it. 

“I’ll get started on cleaning up your shoulder now.”

Donghyuck crept forward in between Mark’s outstretched legs. Gently, he pressed the damp towel to the crusted, dried blood staining Mark’s shoulder. Mark came to a guilty realization as he watched Donghyuck’s determined face, the set of his brow, from close enough to catch the moles dotting his cheeks.

Strictly speaking, Mark thought, Donghyuck didn’t need to be doing this part. Mark could clean his shoulder up just fine on his own. But he didn’t want to speak up, cut the moment short. He’d rather stay silent and continue to hear Donghyuck’s tired, soft exhalations from up close, the sighs he probably didn’t even know he was making.

“Thank you,” Mark broke the silence. His voice was low, surprising even himself, “Not just for this. For everything.”

Mark was so grateful that Donghyuck had come chasing after him, that day his claws appeared. He couldn’t think of where he’d be now, if he hadn’t had Donghyuck. Couldn’t imagine it, even if he wanted to.

Mark smiled, to see Donghyuck’s cheeks slowly go rosy under his eye. Donghyuck blushed at the oddest things.

“Yeah, well,” Donghyuck drew back, reached for the box of band-aids. He wasn’t meeting Mark’s eyes, “You know. You’re welcome, or whatever. But I don’t want to have to do this anymore.”

Mark didn’t understand.

“What?”

Donghyuck unwrapped a band-aid. He pressed it to the approximate spot where the last bullet had torn through Mark’s shoulder. With the blood washed away, there was no sign it had ever been there at all. The wound was completely healed. But Donghyuck still put one of his band-aids on it, all the same. Mark’s heart skipped a beat in his chest.

“Don’t make me dig anymore bullets out of you.”

Mark was stunned into silence. He could only blink at Donghyuck, wondering why he seemed so adamant about this. It wasn’t like Mark had set out that night looking to get shot.

Donghyuck sighed, as he finally seemed to gather the courage to raise his gaze to meet Mark’s. He raised his hand, as if to touch the spot on Mark’s shoulder, where a band-aid now lay, but he stopped right before his fingers would have made contact.

“You have some kind of healing factor, but we don’t even know how far it goes. Jeno’s found some accounts of some freaks with abilities like yours. Some cases where patients kept healing, too quick for the doctors to explain. But even those patients… even some of them have died. Either their healing factor gave out on them, or they were injured in a way even they couldn’t come back from.”

Mark felt his heartbeat accelerating, but he didn’t know if it was from Donghyuck’s revelation, or from the way Donghyuck was looking at him, heated and concerned. It might’ve even been from Donghyuck’s touch, light on his shoulder above the bandage he’d placed.

“Oh,” Mark said, struck dumb.

“You’re not invincible, Mark Lee. You keep going out there, you keep getting hurt-- one day, you might get hit with something your body can’t handle.”

“I know I’m not invincible.”

Before he could think better of it, before he could let his brain kick in and stop him from acting, Mark tucked the bloody bullets into his jeans pocket and reached up to grasp Donghyuck’s wrist. Mark didn’t know if he was imagining it, but Donghyuck seemed hotter than ever to the touch.

“But I got shot four times and survived, Donghyuck,” Mark lightly guided Donghyuck’s hand by his wrist, down. To Mark’s chest, right above where his heart lay, beating a rapid rhythm in his chest. Donghyuck let out a shaky exhale, “See? Four bullets and it’s still beating. Don’t you think I’ve earned a little faith from you?”

Donghyuck’s breath hitched, as he looked from his hand on Mark to Mark’s face. His expression was open, uncertain. His eyes moved rapidly, scanning Mark’s face for something . Mark didn’t know what, but he hoped Donghyuck found what he was looking for.

Donghyuck exhaled as he drew his hand off from Mark’s chest. As his face closed off, a scowl twisting his lips. Mark tried not to feel like something was lacking, from the sudden chill on his skin that the absence of Donghyuck’s hand had brought.

“You’re just gonna keep going out there no matter I say, aren’t you?” Donghyuck huffed, falling back onto his bed. He folded his leg up, wrapped his arm around it.

Mark pushed past how cold he felt, his sudden urge to shiver. He hadn’t realized how cold Donghyuck’s room was until Donghyuck had touched him and warmed him up.

“Yeah, pretty much,” Mark admitted, a sheepish grin spreading across his face.

Maybe Donghyuck was finally accepting that Mark’s healing, his claws, his strength-- they all allowed him a certain degree of… not invincibility. But the nearest thing. Mark could go out, save people, and be relatively no worse for the wear at the end of the day.

Donghyuck’s gaze dropped to his comforter. He hummed, as he traced shapes onto the fabric.

“Alright, then.”

Mark didn’t know what to think. That had changed rapidly in his favor. Donghyuck had agreed with him easily-- a little too easily. Mark felt his grin falter. He felt increasingly uncertain about feeling relieved.

“Just like that?”

Donghyuck’s hand stilled in the midst of tracing a circle. He glanced up at Mark, from under dark lashes. His expression was unreadable.

“Just like that.”

Mark woke up feeling more at ease than he’d felt in a long time. He was wholly enveloped in warmth, ensconced in the comforting, familiar scent of a campfire crackling low. It brought to mind hours late into the night, when the s’mores start coming out and the scary stories are beginning to be shared.

Mark realized the reason behind the comforting feeling and smell when he opened his eyes. Donghyuck had loaned Mark one of his shirts, since Mark’s own was bullet torn and bloody. Mark had fallen straight asleep in it the instant he’d gotten home.

Mark smiled, as he recalled the face Donghyuck had made when Mark had pulled the oversized t-shirt over his head. The shy grin he’d tried and failed to hide by ducking his head. The way he’d tried to cover for his blush by telling Mark he somehow looked even more stupid than usual, wearing Donghyuck’s Mickey Mouse shirt.

Mark checked his phone and his smile grew into a grin. A message sent in the early hours of the morning from Jeno, and a couple earlier messages from Donghyuck. Mark nestled deeper into Donghyuck’s shirt and unlocked his phone. He still had five minutes until his alarm was set to go off. He had time.

The first message from Donghyuck had probably been sent the instant Mark had walked out from Chenle’s house. It just read ‘text me when you get this so i know you managed to get home safe without getting shot or stabbed or whatever’. Six minutes later, he’d sent his second message ‘you owe me a new set of towels btw’.

Though it was just 5:56 in the morning, Mark nearly laughed. He sent a reply apologizing for not seeing Donghyuck’s first message before apologizing a second time for bleeding all over his nice towels.

Jeno had just texted Mark a link followed by a few cute smiling emoticons and the words ‘if you keep up what you’re doing, we won’t have to worry about looking for others like us anymore! they’ll be finding us’.

Mark’s smile dipped down to a frown as he followed the link. It opened up to a Twitter poll.

‘Vote NOW for your favorite name for our clawed hero!’ the poll said, with the options, ‘Beast’, ‘Bulletproof Boy’, ‘Wolverine’, and ‘Other. Reply with your own nickname below!’.

“Shit,” Mark hissed, as he scrolled up. The account that had posted the poll was some clickbait site with ninety thousand followers. Mark’s heart sunk. They had posted an article to go along with the poll, too. It was entitled ‘You Won’t BELIEVE This Family’s Claims About the Man Who Saved Them From Being Shot and Robbed!’

“Double shit,” Mark groaned, slapping his hand over his face. Donghyuck wasn’t going to be happy about this.

Donghyuck wasn’t happy. He was thrilled.

“Morning, Beast!” Donghyuck greeted him brightly, from where he was seated atop Mark’s desk. Mark choked, as he rushed forward from the classroom door to prevent Donghyuck from loudly saying anything else.

“To tell you the truth, I voted for the Other option in the poll. Reactivated my old account and everything so I could leave a reply saying they should consider Puppy. It’s cuter, you know? Fits you better,” Donghyuck shifted, drew his phone out from his back pocket, “You wouldn’t believe the rude replies that got from your fanboys. Wow. So Brent69-- this guy says that, and I quote, ‘the Beast deserves to be treated with respect’ and that he’s gonna come for me for disrespecting him.”

As Donghyuck read off from his phone, Mark felt warmth rise to his face, spreading across his cheeks. The corner of Donghyuck’s lips inched higher and higher as he read.

“So how ‘bout it, Puppy?” Donghyuck looked up from his phone. The flames flickering in his eyes seemed to dance in the light, “Feel like exacting your revenge on me for my disrespect?”

Mark couldn’t even look Donghyuck in the eye, with his cheeks burning the way they were. Donghyuck calling him Beast did things within him, made his stomach turn. Donghyuck calling him Puppy was even worse. It quickened the pace of his heart.

“I thought you’d be mad,” Mark blurted out, sheepish. One he’d spoken, he averted his eyes and slid into his seat. He felt Donghyuck’s eyes following him all the way.

Donghyuck gazed down at him, pensive look on his face. He tapped his fingers against his knee.

“You’re not subtle. Like, at all. But I think that won’t be as big an issue from now on.”

“Thanks,” Mark sighed. Maybe a mask didn’t help subtlety so much when he had claws and could improbably survive bullet wounds.

Then, immediately, he followed it up with a “Wait, what? Why not?” as Mark realized that he didn’t understand the last portion of what Donghyuck had said.

Donghyuck only offered him a cryptic smile in response.

“Do I even want to ask what you’re planning?” Mark asked, hating that all it took was that smile from Donghyuck to make his heart beat faster.

The classroom door opened before Donghyuck could reply. Mark met eyes with Lucas, and his heart stopped altogether. Donghyuck must have spotted some change in his face, because he turned, swivelling atop Mark’s desk, to look where Mark’s was.

Lucas had frozen in the entrance, as he stared back at Mark. After a long beat, he blinked, and seemed to physically shake himself out of it. He looked away, down, then stalked in and past his seat, the one right next to Mark’s. The moment Mark realized what he was doing, his heart sunk. But he stood up and went after Lucas.

Mark stopped Lucas with a hand on his forearm. He tried not to feel the twinge as Lucas flinched and maneuvered away from him, as Lucas backed away from him until he hit another desk.

“Sorry,” Mark said, strained. It wasn’t any easier to be confronted by Lucas’s fear of him in the daytime, “I just wanted to say that I, uh… I don’t mind changing seats if you don’t want to sit by me anymore.”

Lucas paused, his gaze directed somewhere over Mark’s head. Mark watched his Adam’s Apple bob as he swallowed.

Mark sighed, as Lucas remained painfully silent.

“Lucas. You never bring your glasses and you only ever wear your contacts for games. You need to sit in the front row anyways. Just go back to your seat. I really don’t mind moving.”

Lucas closed his eyes, tightened his grasp on his science textbook. He huffed a breath that was nearly a laugh, then looked at Mark for the briefest moment. His gaze was disbelieving as he choked out a “Thanks”. Then, he spun on his heel to go back to his old seat.

Mark watched Lucas’s hiked shoulders, his heart clenching. He wasn’t an animal to be feared, Mark reminded himself. He closed his eyes and sought for the feeling of the the band-aids Donghyuck had pressed to him last night.

The wounds he’d gotten from protecting that family were long gone, but Donghyuck’s band-aids remained, a reminder of what he’d done for them. Mark may have looked like a monster, but he didn’t do monstrous things.

Donghyuck slipped off of Mark’s former desk and joined him.

“That was…” Donghyuck trailed off.

He turned to look at Mark, his brows drawn together in thought. Mark didn’t know how Donghyuck had planned to finish that sentence, but he was sure he’d have agreed with it.

“Tell me about it,” Mark sighed.

Mark had discovered that the heated, prickly feeling that came when someone hated you because of what you were was all the more potent when that someone didn’t used to feel that way at all. Mark scrunched up his nose.

“Hey. Think the person sitting next to you will mind if I take their spot?” he asked, casually. As if Mark didn’t know exactly who sat next to Donghyuck from all the time he’d spent sneaking looks back at him.

“Mina? God, I’m pretty sure she hates me. She might send you a giftbasket if you trade with her.”

Mark felt eyes on him the instant he walked into the school cafeteria. He knew he wasn’t just imagining the stares he received as he bypassed his former table, where Lucas was holding court. He exhaled, measured, deep.

Mark searched and searched for an open spot, some place he could just sit and eat alone. Maybe let himself wallow in self pity, just a bit. Just a tiny amount. He deserved that much, didn’t he?

Then Mark spotted a head of orange hair ducked over in an otherwise empty booth. Suddenly, he didn’t feel much like wallowing at all.

“Hey,” he walked up to Donghyuck, grin on his face.

Donghyuck looked up, wide-eyed. He had a slice of pizza hefted up high in his hand, his mouth stuffed.

“Hi,” Donghyuck might have responded. Mark could hardly tell, through the food in his mouth.

Mark laughed and slipped into the booth across from Donghyuck. He laughed again, when Donghyuck dropped the pizza slice and covered his mouth with his hand, his eyes darting down. Shy was a strange look on Donghyuck. Mark couldn’t help but smile at it.

“Everyone’s looking over here,” Donghyuck hissed, after he’d swallowed his food and lowered his hand.

Mark’s smile faltered. He felt guilty, all of a sudden. He hadn’t considered how uncomfortable it might make Donghyuck, to bring that kind of attention from the rest of the students to him. Mark glanced around. There were few people were looking their way, some at Lucas’s table among them. But it was only a handful.

“Ah, sorry. That’s my bad,” Mark admitted, “I can go, if you want?”

He gave Donghyuck the option but it was the last thing Mark wanted to do. He searched Donghyuck’s face carefully, but Donghyuck only frowned at him.

“I can’t really send you away, can I?” Donghyuck said, dismissive, “Where would you even go? It looks like Lucas took the rest of your friends in the divorce.”

“Yeah,” Mark choked out another laugh, “I guess he did. Thanks, though, Donghyuck.”

Mark started to pick at the lunchladies’ spirited yet failed take on spaghetti. He supposed Donghyuck had a point.

But Mark couldn’t really get too worked up over losing those people whose friendships probably had an expiration date that ended right on graduation day. Not when he had Donghyuck. Not when he had the rest of the freaks.

Donghyuck had been handed another couple weeks’ worth of detention for skipping out on one the week prior. This was a fact that became an issue when the rains that had been deluging the area for the past week transformed. They started to be accompanied by a roiling thunder and flashing bolts of lightning.

“Crap,” Donghyuck said, simply, after they’d raced back from the cafeteria through the downpour.

They’d somehow managed to hit every other puddle, soaking their socks and sneakers through. Donghyuck’s hair, darkened to auburn by the rain, was plastered across his forehead.

“I don’t wanna walk back to the bus stop through this,” Donghyuck whined. His shoulders jumped with another crash of thunder.

It didn’t even take Mark half a second to decide.

“Let me drive you.”

Donghyuck looked at him. His eyes were wide and uncertain under his stringy bangs, his skin beaded with water.

“I’m kidding. I don’t mind walking through the rain. What’s a little water gonna do to me?”

As if to prove his point, Donghyuck started to steam. The rainwater evaporated off of him before Mark’s eyes in white plumes of vapor. He’d seemed to activate his power at a low enough level that no flames appeared, but he’d still dried himself off. Mark grinned. That was a neat trick.

He pushed his hand through his own soaked hair, shoving it out of his eyes. Not for the first time, he was jealous of Donghyuck’s abilities.

“Donghyuck, come on. I’ll take you home. It’s no problem,” Mark considered why Donghyuck might have turned down his offer. Maybe it was that he didn’t like the thought of Mark waiting an hour for his detention to finish.

“I’ll just camp out in the gym and fit in a little work out while I wait for you,” he added.

Mark hadn’t worked out since he’d been kicked off of the soccer team. If he was going to take his self imposed training seriously, this would be as good a time as any to start.

“You don’t have to do that for me,” Donghyuck trailed off, voice small.

Mark felt a pang. Donghyuck was so stubbornly independent. But Mark knew now that his self sufficiency was by necessity. He’d had to learn it, in the wake of his family’s treatment of him. It seemed that Donghyuck didn’t like accepting offers of help even when the person offering wanted him to take them.

Mark shook his head, “Who says I’m doing it for you? Maybe I just want an excuse to check in on Jeno while he’s working on his research. He’s so handsome when he’s focused, you know?”

Let Donghyuck be able to joke about it, Mark thought. Let him be able to laugh off accepting someone else’s help.

“That’s true,” Donghyuck said, quietly. He sucked in his lower lip as he gazed up at Mark, “He is pretty irresistible.”

Donghyuck jumped, at another crash of thunder. This one was so loud that it felt as if the earth itself had shaken.

Hurriedly, Donghyuck agreed, “Yes, okay. Please drive me. Thanks!”

“You’re welcome,” Mark said to empty air, as Donghyuck ducked his head and dashed off to his locker.

Mark felt his lips pull up into a smile. Maybe, admittedly with the help of a little thunderstorm, he was finally figuring out how to navigate Lee Donghyuck.

✗

Then again, days later, Mark was forced to reconsider his accomplishment. Maybe Lee Donghyuck would always be unnavigable.

“What the hell are you doing?” Mark barked over his shoulder, provoked by the sound of another pebble being kicked, shunted lightly aside as someone with less acute senses than him shuffled behind him.

For three days, Mark had dropped Donghyuck off at Chenle’s. Then he’d parked his car nearby and taken off on foot, patrolling the area for crime as he tuned into his police scanner app and squeezed in brief snatches of working on schoolwork.

And for three days someone had been following him.

The first day, he wrote it off as his paranoia. He was hypersensitive to sounds, he reasoned. He was forming a pattern where none existed, seeing enemies where none were.

The second day, he’d been forced to admit that it was possible he had a tail. Someone who wasn’t very adept at the job. Someone who wasn’t necessarily his friend, but probably wasn’t a very intimidating foe.

It was the third day, and Mark had realized far too late that the brief snatches of orange hair he kept seeing out of the corner of his eye weren’t just him losing it. And it wasn’t just his brain conjuring up comforting images to soothe his stressed mind. Donghyuck was tailing him.

The slight backdrop of shifting pebbles, shuffling asphalt disappeared as Donghyuck froze. He was probably still holding onto the hope that Mark either hadn’t identified that someone was following him, or had , but hadn’t caught onto the fact that it was Donghyuck.

“Donghyuck,” Mark growled. He set down his notebook and pencil. He pushed himself up from his perch atop the fire escape, turning around to face behind him, “Give it up. I know you’re there.”

“Mark!” Donghyuck emerged from behind a chimney, blinding smile alighting his features, “Wow. Fancy meeting you here. What are the odds, right?”

Mark blinked at him, unimpressed. They were on the rooftop of a towering, ancient apartment building that Mark was pretty sure was occupied solely by trust fund hipsters and stubborn octogenarians who refused to move out. Donghyuck had some nerve.

“What are you doing here?” Mark repeated.

He knew he’d been too quick to trust that Donghyuck was actually starting to accept that Mark was going to keep going out. He couldn’t believe he’d actually thought that Donghyuck was starting to respect that Mark was going to keep trying to help people.

“Are you babysitting me or something?” Mark asked, his voice rising with mounting anger.

Donghyuck was so determined to stop Mark from acting the hero or whatever he thought it was that Mark was doing to he had actually stooped to following him. Maybe he was even planning on stepping in and stopping Mark from helping when a crime happened.

“If I was?” Donghyuck’s face hardened before his eyes. Donghyuck stuffed his hands in his pockets and began to walk towards Mark, “Admit it, you could use a babysitter. Someone to watch your back. Someone who actually gives a shit if you get hurt. ‘Cause you clearly don’t.”

Mark growled. Donghyuck was still going on about Mark’s recklessness. Mark ignored the weird flutter in his belly that was set off when Donghyuck said he gave a shit about Mark, because flutters were useless.

“Fuck off. I don’t need anyone watching my back.”

“Really?” Donghyuck scoffed, voice cold, eyes blazing, “What about when that asshole unloaded three bullets into it? I think you could’ve used someone then.”

Mark opened his mouth. Closed it. He couldn’t think of any way to counter that. So he settled for a weak “That worked out fine in the end, though.”

Donghyuck paused. He stopped, just before he would’ve stepped off the building’s roof and onto the firescape.

He closed his eyes and turned his face up to the sky. As Donghyuck stilled, Mark felt his indignation and anger start to sap from him. Remorse and shame at being so easily provoked into shouting at Donghyuck again crept in instead, replacing his anger.

Donghyuck let out a breath, a sigh, as he lowered his face again. When he opened his eyes, his pupils seem to have transformed into twin suns. Each of them was burning as bright as the one hanging low in the sky above.

It was an arresting sight. One that made suppressed feelings resurface, shoot back with a vengeance. Mark had to remind himself to breathe evenly, as Donghyuck stepped over the rooftop ledge and onto the fire escape with him. Sometimes, just when Mark thought he was finally getting used to Donghyuck’s beauty, Donghyuck caught him off guard all over again.

“I’m trying to say I want to join you, Mark,” Donghyuck said, “I’m not going to try and stop you. Not anymore. I want to help you.”

“Oh,” Mark exhaled.

Donghyuck was close enough for Mark to make out the individual details on his face. He could pick up the faint scent of peppermint on the breeze drifting over the city’s rooftops, the smell of campfires crackling, of coming home.

“Wait, what?” Mark felt a sudden chill that had nothing to do with the wind, “No. You’re not joining me.”

Mark’s imagination was suddenly filled with dreadful images he didn’t ever want to be realized. Donghyuck fighting a man in the woods at knifepoint, Donghyuck with a gun pointed to his head in a dark alleyway, Donghyuck getting shot.

“Why the hell not?” Donghyuck asked, that brief moment of serenity short lived.

“Because you might get hurt,” Mark choked out.

Donghyuck’s lips parted in surprise, “You fucking hypocrite. Are you actually being serious right now?”

“Donghyuck...” Mark’s throat hurt. He couldn’t wipe the images from his mind. Donghyuck, bloody after a fight. He couldn’t stand the thought.

“No, Mark. How do you think I feel, knowing that I’m sitting at home, doing nothing while you risk yourself out here?”

“That’s different!” Mark said, though he couldn’t exactly pinpoint why.

There was his healing factor, but there was something else too. All Mark could think to justify it was that Donghyuck was Donghyuck. He was different, an exception. Donghyuck just… mattered, more than anyone else. Mark couldn’t explain it, but he felt it as sure as anything.

Donghyuck let out a strangled, frustrated sound. He ran his hand through his hair. When the orange tufts of hair raised up and caught the light of the setting sun, they looked as though they could be licks of flames of themselves, reaching up to the sky.

“You’re so-- Why do I--?” Donghyuck huffed, then pointed at Mark, “Fuck you, I’m joining your team whether you like it or not. Just try and stop me, Mark Lee.”

How had Donghyuck managed to make his promise to team up sound like a threat? And why did it only make Mark feel more protective of him, more fond? Mark swallowed, faced with Donghyuck’s fiery eyes and his finger jutted at the center of Mark’s chest.

Then, Mark realized something that made his fears abate. He smiled.

“If you think I can’t shake you, you’ve got another thing coming.”

Donghyuck couldn’t even drive. Mark would just find another part of town to lurk in, to search for lawbreakers. Donghyuck couldn’t get hurt trying to help him if he couldn’t find him.

Mark’s heart skipped a beat, as a grin curled Donghyuck’s lips, as the plumes of yellow, orange, and red beyond his head reflected off of him and made his entire face look ablaze.

“Oh, it’s on.”

✗

The next day, Mark finally returned Donghyuck’s shirt. And it was storming once more.

He stopped, as he walked to his seat at the back of the classroom, as his eyes finally swept past Donghyuck to the window behind him. He frowned.

Not only had it not been storming when he’d entered the school fifteen minutes prior, there was also the fact that--

“I actually remembered to check the forecast today and I swear they promised clear skies,” Mark said, stumped, as he squinted out the window.

“My Mickey shirt!” Donghyuck grinned, extending his hand, “I was wondering if I was ever going to get it back.”

Mark froze. He laughed an awkward, too loud laugh and handed over the shirt, freshly laundered and folded. Then, he fell back into his seat and trained his eyes to the front. Desperately, he willed the sudden heat rising to his cheeks to dissipate.

It’s not like Mark had been hanging onto the shirt, or anything. He’d just forgotten. Also, he hadn’t even worn it once past the first night Donghyuck had given it to him. He might have been really tempted to the day before. But that was only because he and Donghyuck had fought, and he’d felt really stressed. So, to prevent himself from wearing the shirt, Mark had stuffed it in the wash and resolved to give it back the next day.

But, somehow, no matter how he justified it, Mark’s desire to hold onto the shirt still felt kind of suspect. It didn’t help his guilt that Lucas happened to turn back the moment he’d tried to face frontwards.

They’d caught eyes, and Lucas’s gaze had slid as Mark watched, falling onto Donghyuck. Mark felt his blush deepen. He wondered if Lucas had seen Mark return the shirt, wondered why he cared what that exchange might have looked like, in Lucas’s eyes. Moreover, he wondered why Lucas was still staring at Donghyuck.

Mark turned to Donghyuck. Donghyuck had his arms wrapped in an embrace around the folded shirt. He’d dropped his head down on it, using the shirt as an impromptu pillow. Mark felt the corners of his lips lift into a smile as Donghyuck’s eyes slid shut.

Though they hadn’t sat next to each other long, Mark was already starting to understand why Mina used to get so frustrated in this spot. Donghyuck seemed to spend most of the time he wasn’t staring out the window in slumber.

Mark couldn’t find it frustrating, though. He just let Donghyuck sleep or tune their professor out. But, before detention, he always made sure to pass Donghyuck the notes he’d taken in class.

Another afternoon, another fire escape. Mark sat on the uncomfortable metal grate, scratching out a calculus proof that hadn’t gone the direction he’d intended. He had one earbud in, listening to the police scanner and one out, so he could hear the world beyond.

Mark didn’t know what exactly kind of area he was in. He’d never patrolled in this part of town though, so that seemed reason enough to go. Mark nibbled on the tip of his pencil eraser, as the sound of police sirens coming and going pervaded his ears. As snatches of conversations below drifted up to him, strained words about too-late paydays, cheating husbands, mothers with cancer. He heard a little girl wail about a lost teddy, only to be hushed by a harsh voice.

Mark set his pencil down, kneaded his eyes in advent of an oncoming headache. There were so many problems that couldn’t be punched out of. So many issues a few slices of his claws couldn’t resolve.

Then, Mark’s ears perked, as a woman in the street below screamed out.

“My purse! He’s got my purse!”

He started swinging down the fire escape, leaping, letting the shock waves of the collision with his sneakers rattle his bones and the rusty metal frame. He’d come back for his schoolwork in a moment, after he’d fixed the one wrong out there that was within his power to set right.

Mark hit the pavement of the alleyway below the fire escape running. He didn’t have his bandana. He’d try not to need it, though. Hopefully, he wouldn’t be using his claws. He spotted a woman running in heels, her skirt flying about her. In a few quick seconds, he’d raced up to her.

“My purse!” she wheezed, “It had-- everything!”

“Just point me to him, ma’am,” Mark redirected her. She was delirious. There were tracks of mascara running down her rouged cheeks.

She slowed to a jog, pointed a finger straight ahead, where her vision was tunneled. She didn’t even glance once in Mark’s direction. Mark bit his lip, as he looked at the receding back of a man in dressed in black. His arms were awkwardly wrapped around his front, as if he was holding something in his grasp. He was already a block away, but Mark could catch up.

Not even thirty seconds later, Mark was upon the man, right at his heels.

“Hi,” he greeted, evenly. He reached out to tap the guy’s shoulder, figuring a warning was only fair.

The man looked over his shoulder, caught sight of Mark and let out a yelp. Valiantly, yet unsuccessfully, the thief tried to speed up and out of Mark’s reach.

Mark choked out a laugh. Then, he grasped onto the back of the man’s shirt and dragged him to a stop. He pulled him into a shadowy area between the two boutiques off the sidewalk. Mark spun the man, pushed him by his palm to the exterior wall of one of the boutiques.

The man was breathing erratically, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He looked on Mark with that same wide eyed, disbelieving gaze that Mark was slowly coming to recognize.

“Purse.”

Mark extended his free hand out, his eyes pointedly darting down to the candy apple red clutch in the man’s grasp.

“What?” the guy gasped, “Come the fuck on. ”

Mark frowned. He clearly had the upper hand here. He didn’t get why the purse thief was being so stingy.

“I know that doesn’t belong to you,” Mark said. He curled his fingers in and uncurled them, growing impatient.

“He’s right. It really doesn’t match the rest of your outfit,” came an all too familiar voice at the mouth of the gap between the two stores.

Mark looked, and his heartbeat kicked up a notch. He couldn’t explain the oddly opposing feelings of excitement and trepidation that he was filled with upon seeing Donghyuck.

Donghyuck had his hand perched on his hip. Though his pose was casual, his lips were parted, as though he was trying to catch his breath. As Mark and the purse thief watched, frozen, Donghyuck shifted from his pose and strolled up to them, as though he had all the time in the world. He brought with him the smell of ash and burning embers.

“Dong--,” Mark cut himself off, quickly glancing ar the purse thief who, blessedly, hadn’t seemed to have caught his mistake, “...Fire-boy. What are you doing here? How’d you find me?”

Donghyuck quirked an eyebrow, his eyes dancing. The corner of his lip ticked up.

“Really? That’s what you’re going with? Even the vultures online are more creative than that.”

Without taking his eyes from Mark, Donghyuck reached forward and plucked the purse from the thief’s hold. The thief let out a whine. He grasped forward towards the purse, towards Donghyuck. Mark felt his adrenaline spike, felt fear for the first time since he’d heard the woman’s scream.

He seized onto the thief’s wrists, preventing him from getting within reach of Donghyuck.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Mark growled.

Then he blinked, as the thief nodded rapidly, his eyes going impossibly wider, his expression turning more terrified. Mark didn’t know where that move had come from. He’d wanted to protect Donghyuck, but that hadn’t been exactly the way he’d meant to go about it.

He glanced, almost guiltily, towards Donghyuck. Donghyuck was holding tight onto the purse, his eyes low and crackling. They ran over the length of Mark’s body achingly slow, from Mark’s sneakers back up to his face.

“Wow, Puppy. You’re kinda different when you’re fighting crime.”

Mark felt his cheeks heat, felt a ripple of something warm course through him, as Donghyuck gazed at him.

“Like… good different?” he asked, hesitant.

“Do you guys really have to do this in front of me?” the thief interjected, his reedy voice tremulous, “Just let me go already. I won’t try an’ fuckin’ steal again.”

“Do what?” Mark asked, in an embarrassingly high voice, his face heating up further.

Donghyuck’s mouth twisted into a scowl. He turned his eyes to the thief.

“Ass,” Donghyuck hissed. He shifted his hold on the purse, freed a hand, and swung out towards the guy’s stomach.

They left the would-be purse snatcher curled over in the gap between the boutiques, clutching his stomach and moaning about teens. Together, they handed the woman back her purse, turned down both her offers of cash compensation and gifts of a handful of candies she’d found at the bottom of her purse.

After, Donghyuck accompanied Mark on his trek back to the rooftop where he’d left his backpack.

“Admit it,” Donghyuck said, leaning over and jostling Mark’s shoulder, “I’m not the worst sidekick ever.”

“I thought you said we were a team,” Mark assured him, automatically. Then, when he’d realized his mistake, “Wait! No, forget that--”

Donghyuck pointed a finger in Mark’s scowling face, his eyes dancing, “Nope! No take-backs. We’re a team!”

Immediately, Mark wanted to shoot Donghyuck down again, tell him to get lost. He wanted to say that he didn’t belong in the world of men with yellowed teeth and knives and guns. Donghyuck was fragile, one blow might break him. He was vulnerable, in the same way as everyone but Mark. Mark just couldn’t pinpoint why it was that he would have welcomed Jeno by his side, watching his back, but the thought of Donghyuck doing the same both terrified and thrilled him.

And, yes, now that he’d had time to think about it, the thought was growing on Mark. Because, as loathe as he was to admit it, he liked the idea of he and Donghyuck fighting together, doing good together. He liked the idea of not being alone but, especially, not being alone because of Donghyuck.

Mark felt guilty, feeling so happy at the knowledge that Donghyuck wanted to be there, by his side, to watch over him. Maybe he’d be able to watch over Donghyuck just as carefully, Mark thought desperately, as he decided he wouldn’t turn Donghyuck away again.

“Fine,” Mark assented, almost a whisper. But the word had barely escaped his lips before Donghyuck jumped up, punching the air.

“Fuck yes! We’re gonna need a team name. Also I need a way better name than Fire-boy, no offense. Don’t offer any other suggestions, by the way. I know all your ideas will suck.”

“Donghyuck,” Mark said, still quiet. His heart kept traitorously jumping at the sight of Donghyuck’s grin shining full force on him, “The second you get anything more than a scratch I’m taking it back, though.”

Donghyuck’s smile softened, though it didn’t disappear.

“You’re still a total hypocrite, then,” he said, but it didn’t sound as though he’d injected any venom into it. The word hypocrite had a new meaning, when it was said with the softness Donghyuck that said it. When he said it, it almost sounded as though he was calling Mark something else entirely.

“Yeah,” Mark sighed. As he looked on Donghyuck, his heart raced for all the wrong reasons. Yes, for fear and worry. But, overwhelmingly, it was excitement that sent his heart rate rocketing, “Still a hypocrite.”

On Friday, Lucas asked Yeri to prom. Mark got the feeling he’d at least tried to be subtle about it. He hadn’t done it the way he’d asked Mark-- during halftime at one of Lucas’s basketball games, in front of an audience of hundreds. But by the time lunch period came, word had gotten round the whole school. And, once again, Mark and Donghyuck’s booth was the subject of prying eyes.

“What if I sent a fireball that girl’s way? She’s been staring at us this whole time. She keeps leaning over and whispering shit with her friend, too, and she’s not being quiet. Like, I’m pretty sure I heard her say my name.”

Mark didn’t even have to look at the girl in question to know who Donghyuck was talking about. Lucky for him, he’d been able to hear her whispers in full clarity from the start. So, after a couple minutes, he’d finally gotten his blush under control.

The girl was speculating with her friend on the likelihood of Mark asking Donghyuck to prom, as some kind of bid to go head-to-head against Lucas for the title of prom king. The whispered words had conjured up mental images of Donghyuck in a suit and tie, his mane of hair somehow tamed. Mark’s mother taking prom photos of the two of them in his front yard, the rest of the guys alternately teasing (Renjun) and wishing them well (everyone else).

Mark was laughing at himself, internally. Donghyuck and prom.

“Probably shouldn’t resort to arson,” Mark said, in what he figured was a passably calm tone, “Or any sort of violence, actually.”

“She’s being rude, though,” Donghyuck sighed. He dropped his head into his hand and gazing at Mark like it was somehow his fault that arson wasn’t an acceptable response to being bothered.

“She’s just curious. Like everyone else,” Mark picked around the limp lettuce leaves that constituted most of the salad he’d been handed at the lunchline, searching for croutons. Then, as if the idea had just occurred to him, he said, “I don’t know. What are your thoughts on the whole situation?”

Donghyuck didn’t say anything, for a moment. Mark looked up from his salad, to find Donghyuck’s gaze had gone curious.

“Just to clarify, you’re asking me what I think about your ex asking a girl to prom a week after he broke up with you?”

Mark nearly choked on his crouton. He already regretted opening his mouth.

“No! I meant, like, what do you think about, you know, prom in general.”

Donghyuck’s expression shifted from curious to amused and Mark really wished he’d learn, eventually, to just stop talking. To have a modicum of self control and allow himself to remain blessedly silent instead of running his mouth.

“I think it’s antiquated and overhyped,” Donghyuck mused and, for some reason, Mark felt his heart sink.

“Oh, of course. You’re right. It is kind of silly,” Mark blustered through an agreement, his face heating.

“You didn’t let me finish,” Donghyuck fell into greater amusement, his sly smile spreading further across his face, lifting his cheeks, making his eyes flicker, “Yeah, it’s stupid. But if the right guy asked, I’d say yes and I think I’d end up having a lot of fun.”

“Oh,” Mark grinned, in relief. He turned back to his salad, smiling. It was good to know that Donghyuck wasn’t jaded enough to hate prom.

But a realization hit Mark hours too late, at the least opportune moment.

He was in the midst of playing a game with Jeno, under the guise of training together while Donghyuck was inside the townhouse putting together an actual, honest-to-god regimine for them. In the meantime, Mark dodged optic blasts Jeno directed at his feet. Mark’s quick reflexes came in handy, and after fifteen minutes, he’d worked out a pattern in the blasts Jeno sent out.

His mind wandered, as he leapt quickly and easily out of the path of the lasers. It was then that he realized the full extent of what Donghyuck had revealed during lunch.

Mark froze, dumbfounded at what an idiot he’d been, this whole time, and Jeno’s subsequent blast hit him squarely on his toes. Mark was filled with searing pain shooting up from his right foot. He hobbled, falling to the grass. Mark had never felt such a sharp, curious ache. But he knew the pain would pass soon enough.

Jeno rushed forward, carefully taking off Mark’s destroyed shoe and sock, and Mark waved off his apologies. Sure, he was missing the majority of his biggest toe, but he could already see the bone growing back in. Not only was he mildly impressed with himself and his healing factor, he was relieved. He’d be fine. He had bigger things to worry about.

“Is Donghyuck gay?” Mark asked, bluntly, as Jeno cradled his rapidly reconstructing foot, his horrified grimace visible underneath his shades.

Jeno looked up from Mark’s foot, his mouth dropping open.

“Huh?”

Mark frowned as he watched flesh knit over the exposed bone of his big toe.

“Donghyuck said something about the right guy asking him to prom… he’s gotta be into guys, right?”

Jeno’s mouth dropped a modicum wider.

“Are you serious? Mark, you literally just lost a limb.”

“Don’t exaggerate. It was just a toe,” Mark corrected, vacantly.

If Donghyuck was into guys, it changed everything. Mark had thought Donghyuck had hated him initially because Mark was gay. But if Donghyuck was gay and open enough about it to speak of it with Mark, then that made no sense at all.

Mark felt like slapping himself in the face, as he recalled Donghyuck’s odd laughter when Mark had constructed a hypothetical scenario for Donghyuck and his imaginary girlfriend. God, he’d been stupid. How many other obvious hints had he missed?

Just then, the back door slid open, and Donghyuck walked out, his head buried in a stack of paper.

“Okay, I think I’ve got some of the basics sorted out. I think we should start with different techniques for each of us, taking the different strengths of our abilities into account, and--,” Donghyuck finally looked up, freezing. As he took in the scene, a frown appeared on his face.

Mark had to imagine it looked a bit strange, Jeno nearly in tears as he held onto Mark’s bare foot.

“What the hell happened here?” Donghyuck asked, “I left you two alone for, like, half an hour.”

Mark felt his face heat as he recalled Donghyuck’s gaze as he’d talked about the ‘right guy’. His face downturned, looking up at Mark from beneath his lashes. All the times Mark had thought Donghyuck had just been teasing him rushed back. The memories seemed different, now that Mark knew that Donghyuck might be into guys.

Donghyuck teased him so often, Mark realized, his heart skipping a beat.

“I accidentally lasered Mark in the foot,” Jeno confessed, in a rush.

Donghyuck made a strained noise, and rushed forward, dropping the papers from his hands in his haste. The white sheets fluttered in the light breeze that had crept in through the garden above, scattering all over the yard.

“You did what? What the fuck, Jeno,” he whined, pushing Jeno away from Mark.

“It’s all better now,” Mark spoke, distantly, automatically, as Donghyuck fretted over his still bloody, still regrowing foot, “It was my fault, anyways. My mind was... elsewhere.”
Half giddy, Mark recalled the instance where Donghyuck had mentioned how he seemed different when he was fighting crime. That had been kind of flirty, right?

“Mark, you idiot. Don’t let your thoughts drift when you’re dodging lasers. What if Jeno hadn’t been aiming at your feet, huh? What if he’d been aiming at your head?”

As Donghyuck raged at him, Mark couldn’t even summon up the will to be sheepish or ashamed or anything. Donghyuck had flirted with him. Probably. Maybe even more than once. Mark couldn’t be sure, but he was almost convinced of it.

Mark smiled, and it probably looked a little dopey. His heart was beating a quick tap dance melody in his chest, and he felt like dancing along with it.

“But he wasn’t aiming at my head,” Mark said, in an attempt to sound soothing.

He snickered as Donghyuck’s expression shifted from anger to abject confusion. Jeno was muttering behind Donghyuck, wondering aloud if the laser had somehow affected Mark’s brain as well as his foot.

“I’m okay,” Mark insisted, as he pushed himself up off the ground. He allowed Donghyuck to rush forward and take his arm and help him to the wire chairs on the backyard’s patio, “Better than okay, really. I’m doing great! Best I’ve felt in a long time.”

“God, Jeno, maybe you’re right about his brain,” Donghyuck intoned, low, his brows drawing together.

Donghyuck reached forward and pushed Mark’s bangs off his brow, placed the back of his hand against Mark’s forehead. His face loomed close, his eyes wide with concern. His touch was warm, and it sent tingles down Mark’s body.

“Hyuck, why are you checking his temperature? You won’t even be able to--.”

“Shut it,” Donghyuck snapped back at Jeno. When he turned back to Mark and drew his hand from Mark’s forehead, his cheeks were tinged slightly pink.

“Donghyuck, I’m fine,” Mark tried again to convince him. His cheeks were beginning to ache from grinning.

Donghyuck sighed, his eyes sliding shut for a moment. When he opened them again, the flames within them were flickering, dancing with restrained mirth.

“Yeah. I bet you are,” Donghyuck shook his head, “You’re just being weird right now, aren’t you?”

Mark supposed it was a bit strange, to be this thrilled simply over the prospect of potentially being flirted with. So he nodded, prompting another exasperated sigh from Donghyuck.

Donghyuck drew back from him, shaking his head. He grumbled as he turned to go gather the papers that had scattered across the yard. Mark limped over to help him pick them up, despite Donghyuck’s protestations, despite Donghyuck repeatedly trying to force him back into the wire chair.

Mark caught the hint of a smile alighting Donghyuck’s face, though. He saw it just as Donghyuck bent down to pick up a paper, right at the moment when he believed no one to be looking.

✗

Now that Mark had realized that sometimes when Donghyuck teased him, there might have been something more there, something hidden behind the quips and barbs, he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

The first instance when Mark actually set out to patrol with Donghyuck, he felt jumpy, nervous in a way he usually didn’t. He couldn’t help it. Donghyuck’s presence meant safety, comfort, but bringing Donghyuck out with him also meant jeopardizing Donghyuck’s own safety.

Mark had unplugged his headphones and Donghyuck and he were sprawled out on another rooftop. Together, they listened to the almost indiscernible, fuzzy voice of the police radio operator.

“Crime fighting’s more boring than I’d imagined it,” Donghyuck said, after only ten minutes. He was laid out on his back, his eyes directed up at the sky.

“I dunno. I kinda like this part more than the actual fighting,” Mark said, after a beat. He was leaning up against the roof ledge, pretending he wasn’t watching Donghyuck. Mark had to squint as the sun shone off of Donghyuck, turning him golden, the same way Donghyuck was squinting up at the blushed rose sky.

The gravel on the roof crackled as Donghyuck shifted, pulling himself up into a seated position. He picked up a tiny rock by his shoe and flung it over the roof’s edge, past Mark’s shoulder.

Mark eyed him, brimming with questions, not knowing where to start. In the background, the female radio operator droned on, listing codes and patrol car IDs.

And then, instead of spouting a single word that might invite an answer to his multitude of questions, Mark asked something else entirely.

“What if your name had something to do with the sun?”

It felt oddly like Mark was confessing something, in that moment. Donghyuck’s eyes slid over, from the path the tiny pebble had traced through the air to Mark’s eyes.

“The sun?”

Mark felt his heart kick up a beat faster, under the intensity of Donghyuck’s gaze. But he didn’t look away. He nodded. He tried to think of some rationale for what he’d said, some explanation that didn’t include anything along the lines of ‘because you shine so bright that I can’t bear to look at you for too long, though it’s all I want to do’. God, but that was corny. Even if every word was true.

“I just... think it suits you,” he said, lamely.

“Huh,” Donghyuck leaned back, on the heels of his hands, as he eyed Mark back. Finally, Mark had too look away. If he maintained eye contact a second longer, he wouldn’t have been able to hold back his blush.

“I mean, it’s better than what I was thinking. Pyro. Geez, I might as well have labelled myself an arsonist. The sun, though,” Donghyuck paused. His nexts words were softer, warm enough that Mark could envision the smile on his face while he said them, “I like that.”

The rooftop was silent, in the wake of Mark’s suggestion. It wasn’t awkward, but it was laden. Charged. Mark could hardly breathe, the air was so thick, begging him to just ask Donghyuck. Just ask him if he was serious when he flirted with Mark. If he felt anything towards Mark like Mark felt towards him.

So, when the sound of a car alarm rang out and severed the tension, Mark let out a breath of relief. He jumped up, onto the building’s fire escape. As he watched, in the parking lot across the street from the building they were on, a figure in a hoodie jabbed what looked to be a long stick in between a car’s window and its door. A carjacking, then.

Mark glanced back at Donghyuck, nerves spiking, excitement running through his veins like blood. He grinned, nervous, “Showtime.”

And then Mark started descending the fire escape, revelling in the sound of Donghyuck’s feet overhead, as he followed him.

“...You only said I had to stop if I got more than a scratch,” Donghyuck pointed out, sanctimoniously, half an hour later, “These still qualify as scratches, last I checked.”

They were sitting in Mark’s car, and Mark’s stress was at an all time high. He kept trying to get Donghyuck to just stay still long enough for him to put band-aids on the scrapes that ran the width of his palms, dotting the skin red.

“They’re big scratches, though,” Mark grumbled, as he dug through the glove box in front of Donghyuck. He took care not to get to close, lest he actually bump into Donghyuck’s injured hands.

He let out a sigh of relief, as he finally found what he’d been digging for. The box of cartoon puppy-printed band-aids Donghyuck had given him ages back, possibly a little bit more battered, but with every bandage still intact.

“Hands, please,” Mark directed and, miraculously, Donghyuck actually did what he was told.

Mark could feel Donghyuck’s eyes on him, as he unwrapped the bandages one by one and placed them over the scraped skin on Donghyuck’s palms. He held Donghyuck’s hand steady, secretly getting a thrill from the warmth he could glean from just from that slight contact.

He could feel light puffs of air, as Donghyuck’s exhalations landed on him. Sweet and sharp. Peppermint. Mark smiled to himself, as he placed the fourth and final bandage on Donghyuck’s left palm.

“Wish I had some of that antibacterial stuff, but,” Mark made a face, as he drew back, “I guess this’ll have to do until we get back home.”

Mark decided that he needed to drastically revamp the first aid supplies he had in his car. As fond as he was of Donghyuck’s puppy band-aids, they might not always cut it.

Later on, Donghyuck set up his phone on the car’s dashboard and queued up what he called retro music, what Mark called outdated. It was only then that Donghyuck broke the comfortable silence that had fallen over them.

“We make a good team, don’t you think?”

Mark glanced away from the road, to find Donghyuck was already looking at him. Donghyuck’s thumb stilled where he’d been tracing it over the band-aids Mark had placed on his palm. Mark swallowed, then looked away. He wondered if Donghyuck was still talking about fighting crime.

Either way, his answer would have been the same.

“Yeah. We’re pretty good together.”

✗

The first time Chenle asked if he could go out when them, help them out a little, Donghyuck was the one to put his foot down. Chenle sniffed, as Donghyuck yelled at him. As Donghyuck told him he was too young, too inexperienced, too much of a liability.

Mark was starting to see the disadvantages of sensing emotions, because Chenle could only tell Donghyuck’s fear.

He couldn’t tell that when Donghyuck called him a liability, he was just concerned for him. When he called him young, it wasn’t some sort of insult, it was just Donghyuck voicing his indignation that Chenle felt the obligation to do any sort of risky activity when he was hardly sixteen.

In the end, though he knew it risked making Donghyuck give him the silent treatment for a day, Mark stepped in.

“What if we compromise?”

As Mark stepped forward, in front of Donghyuck, he reached ahead and laid a hand on Donghyuck’s back as he passed. It was just a brief touch, just an effort to show that he understood Donghyuck was simply trying to care for Chenle, in the best way he knew how. Donghyuck seemed to shudder under his palm, and Mark glanced at him in concern before turning back to Chenle.

“We could take you out with us when we’re not trying to fight crime. Take you to the park or the mall or something. It could help you get used to being around a lot of people with a lot of emotions.”

Chenle looked up at Mark, eyes wet and shining, and Mark suspected that maybe that’s all Chenle had been looking for all along.

It became a bit of a thing. Mark and Donghyuck spent most days together, with just each other, talking about classes or speculating over hero names for themselves as they looked for criminals to stop. Or mockfighting each other in the townhouse’s backyard, while Jaemin hissed at them from where he clung to his garden above to watch themselves, please, or there’d be hell to pay.

But some days, Jeno and Chenle would join them. They’d all load up in Mark’s car and go to the park or the mall. Just somewhere with enough people to make Chenle grimace at first, to hold back his panic from being overloaded, yet wide open enough that Chenle could always find some emptier spot to hide out and calm down in.

It took a couple weeks, but Donghyuck eventually came to admit that Mark’s compromise had been an alright idea. They were sitting on a bench on the river bank, the metal heated warm by the sun. It wasn’t too warm, just enough to combat the evening’s encroaching chill. The two of them were just sitting and listening to the sounds of people enjoying themselves on the river.

Chenle shouted excitedly as Jeno tried and failed to calm him down enough. Their footpaddle boat continued to spin in circles in front of Mark and Donghyuck, as Chenle paddled far faster than Jeno could match.

Donghyuck laughed, as Jeno started to look queasier and queasier. Jeno seemed to have given up on asking Chenle to calm down and was simply holding onto the side of the footpaddle boat for dear life.

“This is gonna sound real fucking cheesy and I promise I don’t mean it that way,” Donghyuck started, voice low, eyes trained on the erratically moving footpaddle boat, “But out of all the popular assholes at school, I’m glad it was you who ended up getting claws.”

Mark bit down on his lip, but he couldn’t contain the pleased smile that broke out across his face. He shifted where he sat. He moved, not enough to press them flush against each other, but close enough that the sleeve of his t-shirt brushed up against Donghyuck’s hoodie. Just close enough for him to feel Donghyuck’s warmth.

“I’m glad it was me too,” he said. He couldn’t imagine his life without Donghyuck, without the rest of the guys in it.

Mark’s breath hitched, as Donghyuck shifted beside him. Donghyuck inched close enough to rest his head on Mark’s shoulder.

“Might as well rest a bit. These idiots are gonna keep us here all night,” Donghyuck mumbled.

Mark’s grin grew. He could only just see the barest snatches of Donghyuck’s face through his bangs, but he could see his newly flushed cheeks, the telltale hints of a dawning blush. Mark’s heart was thumping in his chest and he swore he could hear Donghyuck’s beating just as fast. He made sure not to fidget, not to breathe too deep or too shallow. He didn’t want to risk making Donghyuck move away.

Mark was disappointed when Donghyuck’s prediction came false, when Jeno and Chenle ended their boatride thirty minutes later. Donghyuck nearly jumped up off the bench, in his haste to remove himself from Mark before they spotted them. But, as Mark began to trudge back to his car with the rest of them, he could still feel the heat from Donghyuck’s head on his shoulder. The warm imprint he’d left behind. And he had to smile.

It was strange, Mark realized. How so much had changed in so little a time. Mark and Donghyuck were driving back to Chenle’s place after dropping off a would-be criminal on the steps of the police department, bound and gagged with the duct tape Mark had stolen from one of the drawers in his kitchen.

They’d caught the criminal in the midst of him attempting to rob a convenience store. Mark was mentally replaying the moment that Donghyuck had created a smokey haze to distract the criminal so Mark would have cover to sneak up on him and immobilize him when he realized, with an odd feeling, what day it was. Why the streets were so bare, at what should have been rush hour.

“It’s Saturday, right?” Mark asked, to be sure he wasn’t mistaken.

“Yeah,” Donghyuck hummed. Mark felt even odder, for feeling nothing. It was prom day, and he’d forgotten about it entirely until just that moment.

“Why? You got some tinder date tonight or something?” Donghyuck pried, his voice far too light, casual.

Mark glanced at him. Donghyuck was strewn lazily across the passenger seat, his body listed, angled towards Mark. He had one leg propped up against the car door. And his head was closer to Mark than it ought to be. When he tilted his face to turn and look at Mark, his eyes were near enough that Mark could see the flecks of lighter brown in them, patches that glowed golden in the light of the setting sun.

Mark blinked, to force himself not to get lost in them. He looked away, back at the road ahead.

“Nah. Us sad, single losers have to stick together. I wouldn’t abandon you like that.”

Mark felt a pang, then. He regretted not working up the courage to ask Donghyuck to prom, even as friends. Donghyuck had mentioned something about saying yes if the right guy asked. Mark couldn’t shake the thought that, maybe, that could have been him.

“Oh,” Donghyuck’s voice was quieter, harder to read, “Yeah, right. Thanks.”

Mark chanced another glance his way. Donghyuck wasn’t looking at him, not anymore. He appeared to be staring out the window, at the buildings and storefronts flying by on the roadside.

But Mark could still see half of his face. He could see how the corner of his lips had lifted up, as though he was smiling. His cheeks looked even pinker than usual, illuminated by the warm orange and crimson sky above their heads.

“Hey,” Mark started, feeling a smile lift the corners of his lips up too, “Do you want to watch the rest of those British wizard movies tonight?”

There was a beat, a pause.

“...Harry Potter?” Donghyuck’s voice was strained. Mark could barely keep a straight face, as he heard Donghyuck shifting beside him, felt his eyes on him, “You have to be kidding me. Harry Potter. You’ve seen the first and second movies and you still don’t know his name?”

Mark shrugged, painstakingly preventing his shoulders from shaking with suppressed laughter. Donghyuck’s face grew more and more disbelieving.

“Fuck that,” Donghyuck whispered, his voice grave, “Mark, we’re starting again from the beginning if you’re gonna be like this.”

Starting from the beginning again meant three more hours of Donghyuck pressed up against his side as they all packed together to fit on their one tiny couch. Three more hours of being tortuously aware of his own thumping heart. Mark knew that every slight shift and adjustment from each of them would result in another whispered ‘excuse me’ or ‘sorry’, both of them seemingly hyperaware of the other at their side.

“Oh. Darn. What a shame,” Mark said, without any real regret.

Towards the end of the second movie, when Harry and Ron were saving Ron’s sister from the giant snake, Donghyuck had fallen asleep. He’d nodded off, dropping his head onto Mark’s shoulder for the second time in as many weeks. His breathing was slow and even, a lulling, comforting sound that had pulled Mark to sleep soon after. Mark wondered if Donghyuck would do the same thing again tonight.

Mark felt heat rise to his own cheeks, perhaps even coloring them as pink as Donghyuck’s. He’d recalled how the rest of the guys had teased them when they’d woken them up the next morning. Jeno had smiled a knowing smile and asked a simple “Sleep well last night?”.

Donghyuck had said nothing, at the time. But later that same morning, he had ordered Jeno to run extra laps around the garden in their training, supposedly for “not sweating enough”. And Donghyuck’s face had been flushed all the while, his eyes straying, his gaze always finding its way back to Mark.

✗

Mark could feel something shifting, changing, taking ahold of their group. Even the most reticent, Jaemin and Renjun, were being swept up in the tide. In the weekend mornings, while Mark waited for Donghyuck to wake, he sat up outside in the townhouse’s backyard. He watched as Jaemin disappeared and reappeared, popping in and out of existence with a crack, clinging to different parts of the garden’s grid.

When Mark shouted up and asked him if he was training for something too, Jaemin only grinned and denied it, saying no, of course not. He was just ramping up his gardening efforts, with all of Donghyuck’s newfound strides to seemingly destroy his garden.

As the sound of whip cracking filled the air, and the smell of sweet blooms intermingled with singed ivy and grass, Renjun also took to the outdoors. He told Mark he was just feeling cooped up, that he needed to stretch his wings. But Mark saw the glint in Renjun’s eye as he soared around the air above, the determined set of his brow as he flipped in the air. He made sharp turns as he flew, pulled up to a full stop in moments from a high speed glide.

Mark felt the energy from the team, crackling in the air like electricity. Masks couldn’t hide Renjun and Jaemin. They couldn’t blend in like the rest of them. But, Mark thought, maybe they shouldn’t have to. Maybe, just maybe, it was time for them to stop trying to blend in. Maybe, if they were going to help the world, it was time for the world to start to recognize them.

The day started out like any other. Mark wouldn’t have known that, by the end of it, everything he thought to be true about the world would be upended, proven wrong.

Mark dashed through the rain from the student lot, holding a folder above his head as he dodged puddles. He’d gotten pretty good at that, the past few weeks. He walked into the classroom, pulled up and paused, as he always did.

Because Donghyuck seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to him. He looked away from the window when Mark walked in. He smiled, and Mark grinned back and they just did that for a moment. It was stupid, but it was still enough to ignite that warm bloom in Mark’s chest. Feeling warm, he kept walking, all the way to the back of the classroom.

“Morning, Puppy,” Donghyuck greeted. He dropped a baggie of mysterious white lumps on Mark’s desk, still smiling. Mark slung his backpack down and sat, then picked up the bag and examined its contents. He struggled to place them and, finally, gave in and glanced at Donghyuck for an explanation.

“Chenle’s moved on to macarons,” Donghyuck said. Then, fondly, “They taste like shit. I’d have thrown ‘em out, but I wanted you to have to suffer through them too.”

Mark laughed, thanked him for his thoughtfulness, and they continued their routine.

The first inkling that something was wrong came ten minutes into the period. In Mark’s unzipped backpack, Mark’s phone lit up with a new message. He glanced up at their professor, then dropped his eyes back down. He angled his head and squinted to read the text before the screen went dark again.

It was from Jeno, sent to both he and Donghyuck. All his message said was ‘get to the house now’ . Mark felt a spike of adrenaline, a quickening of his heartbeat. Another message popped up, before the screen went dark. Then another. Both from Jeno. Mark’s breath caught in his throat. He glanced back up at the professor, before deciding to risk it, and reached forward.

The second message was vague enough that Mark would’ve been pissed at Jeno if he wasn’t so worried. Just ‘weird shit going on downtown’. The third was longer, saying ‘cops can’t figure it out but news footage shows a guy at the center of it’. As Mark finished reading the latest message, a fourth popped up. ‘i think he’s like us’. Mark stared at that last text for a beat, his eyes unfocused. Then, he shook himself.

“Donghyuck,” Mark hissed, nudging him, rousing him from sleep. Mark wasn’t so far gone into his anxiety that his heart was left unaffected when Donghyuck blinked at him blearily as he raised his head off his desk. But Mark ignored the skip of his heart.

“We gotta go,” Mark said, “Right now.”

“Huh?” Donghyuck asked, voice softened. Mark would have really appreciated if his brain would stop summoning up words like adorable and cute.

“Jeno texted,” Mark whispered and, with that, Donghyuck finally seemed to snap awake. His eyes widened, his expression morphed to one of confusion.

Mark dropped his phone in his bag and zipped it up, loudly enough that the professor’s eyes flicked to him as he continued his lecture. Mark, not too concerned with appearances or propriety, just stood up with his bag and started to walk quickly to the front of the classroom. As he walked he heard the sound of Donghyuck’s bag zipping up, Donghyuck’s chair scraping against the floor as he followed Mark’s lead and pushed up and out of his desk.

Their professor stopped speaking. He froze, his mouth gaping open, as he and the rest of the class watched them close on the door.

“Sorry, professor,” Mark said, as he held the door open for Donghyuck to hurry through, “We’ll be back for our detention slips later.”

Before the door had even closed behind them, they were running. Darting through the school hallways, the squeaks of their sneakers on the tiles disturbing the quiet, drawing curious eyes to them as they passed by classrooms filled with their fellow students.

“What is it?” Donghyuck panted, as he kept pace with Mark. Mark looked over his shoulder, stupidly filled with fondness. He was reminded that Donghyuck had just picked up everything on Mark’s word alone. Donghyuck had no idea why he was running, just that Mark had done it first.

“I don’t know,” Mark admitted, as they turned a corner, “Jeno was vague. There’s some sort of freak like us attacking downtown.”

“What?” Donghyuck asked, breathless, “A freak?”

“That’s what Jeno thinks--.”

Mark cut off, as turned another corner and slammed into a solid object that shouldn’t have been there.

Mark froze, his eyes widening, as he watched the student he’d ran straight into stumble back and fall on the ground. The moment the student hit the ground, thunder crashed outside, eliciting a yelp from Donghyuck.

“Ouch?” the boy said, hand going back to his back, as if he wasn’t quite sure what had happened but he knew he’d been hurt.

“Holy shit , I’m so sorry,” Mark exhaled, jumping forward, reaching out to help the poor guy up. He was tall, taller than Mark. The Mark from before couldn’t have toppled him simply by running into him.

“I’m really sorry,” Mark repeated, sincerely.

“It’s okay,” the boy sniffed, and Mark felt his heart drop. The boy’s eyes were watery behind his long blond fringe.

“Mark, I thought this was kind of a time sensitive thing,” Donghyuck hissed.

Mark ignored him.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked, peering carefully up at the boy, “Is anything bruised or broken or...?”

“No. I’m fine,” the boy said. His fingers twitched nervously at his side. Mark tried not to pay attention to Donghyuck shifting impatiently by him.

“You’re crying,” Mark pointed out, after a beat, awkward.

The boy’s eyes flitted from Mark’s, “Yeah, but that-- that’s not because I fell.”

“Isn’t there literally a dude with powers terrorizing the city as we speak?” Donghyuck whispered in Mark’s ear.

“Donghyuck,” Mark said, pained, “Just... give us a minute, okay?”

He turned back to the boy, sighing. Donghyuck had a point. They needed to get going right then. But it seemed as if Mark had injured an already crying kid. He needed to do something about that, before anything else.

Mark reached out, to tap on the boy’s arm and garner his eyes from where they seemed to have fallen to his sneakers.

“Hey,” Mark frowned, as he looked at the boy, “Wait, sorry. What’s your name?”

“Jisung,” the boy sniffed. He raised up his hand and swiped at his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie, “My name’s Jisung.”

“Okay,” Mark smiled, hesitantly, “Jisung. If I’m not the one that made you cry, then I’m even more sorry.”

“What?” Jisung asked. He no longer looked nervous. Instead, he looked confused. Mark considered that an improvement.

“Super powered terrorist,” Donghyuck sang, under his breath.

“Donghyuck,” Mark repeated, a sigh. Then, “Jisung, I’m sorry because it’s looking like I just made your bad day even worse.”

Mark searched Jisung’s face. His smile grew bigger as he saw comprehension dawning there. Regretfully, Mark started “We really do have to go now but, like, just know that everything will get better, okay?”

Without thinking, Mark glanced back at Donghyuck after he’d spoken. Dongyuck’s impatient scowl shifted into a self conscious smile under his gaze, and Mark’s grin grew.

“And because of how you feel now you’re gonna be able to appreciate it even more when it does get better,” Mark added, quietly thrilled to watch a pink tinge bloom on Donghyuck’s cheeks.

“Did you get that from a Hallmark card?” Donghyuck asked. But his smile was bright, and his eyes were dancing, flickering with warm light. Mark laughed.

“You guys are really cute together,” Jisung’s voice came, drawing Mark’s attention from Donghyuck. Jisung had a small smile on his face. Together, he’d said . Mark’s mind blanked.

“Thank you,” he replied, automatically.

“Oh, no. We’re not--.” Donghyuck’s panicked denial brought Mark straight back down to earth.

“Oh. Yeah, no. We’re just-- We… really have to leave now. Bye, Jisung! See you around,” Mark blurted out in a rush, then, because it looked like Jisung was at least a couple grades younger than he and Donghyuck, he tacked on a, “Hopefully? Sorry again for running into you. I hope things turn around for you soon!”

After Mark and Donghyuck took off again, Mark caught Jisung shout a loud “Good luck with the super villain, you two!”. He smiled, despite himself, despite his mounting nerves.

As Donghyuck clambered into his car, he looked back over his shoulder at the school behind them.

“It’s not raining,” Donghyuck said, distantly, “It’s been raining for the past month. It was storming five minutes ago. And now there isn’t a cloud in the sky.”

Mark checked it out in his car’s window as he backed up and began to pull out of the lot.

“That’s a good sign,” he said, eyeing the perfectly clear horizon and trying not to feel unnerved, “Right?”

“Right,” Donghyuck responded, quieter, but his brows were drawn together in thought, “Hey, did you catch how lightning struck the exact moment you ran into that kid?”

“Uh,” Mark hadn’t. He wasn’t sure why Donghyuck was bringing it up now, not when they were about to head out to fight God knows who, with God knows what powers.

Out of the corner of his eye, Mark caught Donghyuck shake his head. His gaze was distant, thoughtful. Mark could hardly imagine what was going through his head, as Mark pushed his car well above the speed limit, keeping an eye out for the speed traps that cops always set up around their school area.

“Jisung, huh?” Donghyuck asked. Then, he huffed a laugh without waiting for an answer. Mark was beyond tempted to turn around and see the look on his face. His voice sounded amused, and Mark yearned to know why.

Donghyuck groaned when they turned onto the street the townhouse was on and came in full view of every single one of the freaks standing out in the driveway.

“Please tell me you’re just here to see Jeno off,” Donghyuck pleaded, when Mark had parked the car and rolled down the windows.

“Nope!” Jaemin said, brightly, opening the car’s back door, “We’re coming too. This guy’s pretty hardcore. It looks like you’ll need all the help you can get.”

Mark’s heart skipped a beat. Only Donghyuck and he had actually gathered any fighting experience. Only Donghyuck, Jeno, and he had ever trained fighting as a team. He wondered just how bad the guy terrorizing downtown was, that Jeno was desperate enough to let Jaemin, Renjun, and Chenle know about him too.

“Hyuck, you should join us in the backseat,” Jeno suggested, as Renjun just barely managed to slip in after Jaemin, “Let Chenle sit in front so he doesn’t have to focus on shielding himself from us.”

“You’re shitting me,” Donghyuck’s mouth dropped open, “There’s no way I’ll fit back there with you and Jaemin and fucking flyboy.”

Five minutes and a lot of complaining and whining later, Donghyuck was squished between Jeno and the window, with a faceful of Renjun’s feathers. Mark glanced at the backseat. He wondered if it was worth the risk of third degree burns to let out the laugh that was threatening to come out of him. He decided against it, and cleared his throat.

“Everyone buckled up?” Mark asked, instead.

A chorus of “Yes”es of varying enthusiasm followed, intermingled with Jeno’s “No, but it’s okay! Renjun’s agreed to hold onto me”. (“Oh my God, you’re making this a thing, aren’t you? Don’t make this a thing, Jeno.”)

“Okay,” Mark bit his lip, fighting equal desires to scream and laugh, “Let’s go, then. Donghyuck, if could you give me directions…?”

“Got it,” Donghyuck agreed, immediately, passing his phone over to Jeno for him to plug in a location.

“And, Jeno,” Mark caught Jeno’s eye in the rearview mirror, after Jeno had passed Donghyuck’s phone back to him, “Can you fill us in on everything you know about this guy while we’re on the way?”

Jeno nodded. His smile slipped from his face, his mouth went grim as he shifted into a more solemn state.

“Renjun, you smell amazing,” Jaemin whispered, in an undertone that travelled through the cramped car, “Is that lavender? Rose?”

“It’s literally the same soap we all use.”

“I didn’t know soap could smell so lovely.”

Mark squeezed his eyes shut. He allowed himself a sigh, then opened them again. As he shifted his car back into gear and set off again, Mark growled, “Maybe save that for later, Jaemin?”

“I hate this fucking family,” Donghyuck grumbled, before directing Mark to make a right. His voice was slightly muffled, as though he’d spoken into Renjun’s wing.

“No you don’t,” Chenle chirped.

Somehow, Chenle had a smile on his face. Even though Mark was headed into battle with an unknown villain with unknown powers and a group of totally untested teens, Mark had to smile. He shook his head at himself, then glanced back over at Jeno to remind him.

“Anytime now, Jeno.”

Jeno filled them in on what he’d gathered about the guy, from news reports and twitter accounts. As far as Jeno figured, he had some ability to either control or create rocks-- giant slabs of granite and slate harkened his first appearance.

They rose up out of nowhere, without warning, big, hulking masses as tall as buildings themselves. They disrupted morning rush hour traffic on a road right in the heart of the city. They burst up out of the earth, without any quakes or aftershocks, upending cars and trucks, sending walking commuters running for cover.

The most recent helicopter footage showed that the slabs had only increased in size as the man moved. He was making a slow path of destruction and damage south, going God only knows where, wrecking the roads as he passed. Jeno reported that he was sending cars flying with only a flick of his hand. He had the ability to send errant rock slabs up high into the sky, bursting through buildings.

Mark inhaled shakily, as Jeno recounted a cellphone video he’d seen of a wall of rock as tall as a cliffside rising from the city sidewalk into an office building. The cliff had sent the building’s glass windows shattering, the building’s structure crumpling, had sent screams through the air.

Mark wasn’t smiling anymore.

“Any idea why he’s doing this?” Mark asked, feeling hollow.

This was the first freak Mark had learned of, aside from their group, and he was using his powers to destroy Mark’s city, to harm and injure people without discrimination. Mark felt sick, uneasy.

He pushed his foot down on the car’s gas, able to speed as much as he liked now that they were nearing the zone of destruction. A few cars lay abandoned on the roadside, but his car was the only one driving south. He and the freaks were the only ones crazy enough to be headed towards the one-man earthquake.

Jeno just shook his head, “No. Some cameras have caught him saying things, but no mics have picked up what. The news crews have all abandoned the area by now. No one’s posted any videos on Twitter in awhile either.”

“Probably getting back at society for treating him like crap just ‘cause he’s different,” Renjun said, his voice laden heavy with irony.

No one laughed. Mark wondered if everyone else was feeling as uncomfortable as him. He suddenly felt all the more responsible for stopping the earthquake man, upon the realization that the freaks had something in common with him that most people didn’t.

“We’re getting close to where he was last sighted,” Donghyuck spoke quietly, into the car’s awkward silence.

Gradually, Mark was having to take increasingly erratic turns to dip around stalled cars, with smoke rising from their hoods. Some were tipped over onto their sides, propped up on giant slabs of rock. Giant cracks in split road. Mark could see cliffsides underneath broken-windowed storefronts and restaurants. An entire row of columns at the face of a bank had collapsed onto the sidewalk, piled up on each other like gigantic toppled dominoes.

“We might have to get out and take the rest of the way on foot,” Mark said, then stopped. A sloping silhouette had appeared in his field of vision. A dark figure that stood tiny and unimposing amidst the dusty, debris filled street.

“Shit,” Mark slammed on the brakes, instinctually.

He was holding his breath like somehow the figure in the distance could be alerted to their presence by the sound of his breathing alone. Then, as surprised gasps and shocked noises came from the rest of the guys, Mark winced, and apologized, “Sorry!”

Mark exhaled. He took his keys from the ignition and turned to face the backseat.

“He’s about a couple blocks ahead of us, I think. Let’s try and keep it down when we’re getting out, ‘kay?”

No one was smiling or joking any longer. They all nodded, grim expressions on their faces. They slipped out from the car one by one and joined Mark, huddled behind it. Mark closed his eyes, briefly, as he waited for the rest of the guys to join him.

Screams from the buildings surrounding them filled the air, the ones punctured by the towering rock slabs. The sounds of structures creaking, of objects within falling and smashing reached Mark’s ears. The smell of freshly overturned earth was sickening, Mark discovered, when it was intermingled with the scent of spilled gasoline, burnt tar, and fear.

“Okay,” Mark opened his eyes, and found that everyone else was looking at him, waiting. He swallowed, “I think I’ve got a plan.”

“Jaemin, Renjun. Can you guys try to get into the buildings he’s wrecked? There’s still people in them, trapped.”

Jaemin and Renjun shared a glance, then turned to Mark and nodded. There was a matching gleam in their eyes, that same determined glint they had as they insisted to Mark repeatedly that they hadn’t been training. At the worst time, Mark felt his heart start to swell, fondness for the freaks making it grow.

“I’m not sure how stable they are so be careful, okay? There’s gonna be a lot of broken glass too, so watch out for that.”

Mark wished they’d had more time to prepare. He wished he’d tried to involve Renjun, Jaemin, and Chenle a bit more in their training.

“Got it,” Jaemin said. Renjun punctuated his words with a nod.

“Jeno,” Mark turned to him, “Do you think your lasers can cut through stone?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure,” the corner of Jeno’s lip lifted for a moment, before it dropped back down, “Remember when I blasted off your toe?”

Donghyuck made a strangled noise and Mark barked a quick laugh, before he remembered to stifle it.

“Oddly, yeah, I haven’t forgotten that,” Mark bit his lip, “Do you think you could use your lasers to cut through his rocks before he can send them through anymore buildings?”

Jeno nodded. Mark’s heart was beating rapidly, hammering against his ribcage, but he was starting to allow himself to calm down. Mark turned to Donghyuck, and he couldn’t have helped the automatic smile that came to his face.

“Donghyuck,” Mark felt his heart skip a beat, as Donghyuck smiled a terrified smile back at him, “You’re coming with me. We’re gonna get close to him and take him down.”

“Rocky doesn’t stand a chance against us,” Donghyuck said, though the effect of his claim was somewhat lessened by how nervous he sounded.

“Yeah,” Mark grinned, “What’s that asshole gonna do? Shoot a couple pebbles our way?”

Donghyuck snorted. He reached forward and he and Mark followed through on a subdued version of the handshake they’d perfected over hours spent in wait atop rooftops, holding out for a crime to stop.

“What about me, Mark?” Chenle asked, quiet, “How can I help?”

Mark exhaled. His tentative grin dropped from his face as he turned to Chenle and saw the utter determination there.

“You’ve got the most important job of all,” Mark told Chenle, “After Donghyuck and I take him down, I want you there, okay? Make him want to surrender and never hurt another person again.”

Chenle’s mouth was a set line, “Okay! I can do that.”

“Knew you could,” Mark nodded, encouraging, back at him, “Until the exact moment we have him, I want you to stay safe, though. Stay out of trouble.”

Chenle didn’t look incredibly happy about that but he agreed.

Without another moment’s delay, once the plan was laid out, they put it into motion. Renjun took off from behind the car. Mark watched, feeling like something within him was taking flight as well, as Renjun’s winged silhouette appeared in black against the sun before he flew away, towards a wrecked building.

With the sound of whip crack, Jaemin disappeared from behind the car. In a moment he reappeared, clinging to one of the massive rock shards that protruded up from the road and into a building. Then, there was another sound of a whip crack, and Jaemin disappeared again. He didn’t reappear, and Mark surmised he’d probably teleported directly into the building.

Jeno cleared his throat and wished the remaining three luck. Then, he took off running towards the direction of the earthquake man, and his path of destruction. His hand was already rising up to his glasses.

Left with just Chenle and Donghyuck, Mark turned to Donghyuck. His heartbeat was quickening, adrenaline rushing through his veins, making all else around him but Donghyuck’s resolute face fade to the background.

“Ready?” Mark asked, voice low.

“Fuck yeah,” Donghyuck said, then, with a laugh, “I wanted to wait ‘til I’d perfected this to show it to you, but I guess now’s as good a time as any, right?”

“What? What are you talking about?” Mark asked, lost.

He watched, confused, as flames began to lick across Donghyuck’s figure. They appeared first from the tips of his fingers and toes on his right side, and quickly spread. Mark held his breath as flames enveloped Donghyuck’s body, setting him entirely alight.

“Donghyuck,” Mark whispered, awed. All of Donghyuck burned. He was wholly on fire, from his scruffy sneakers to the top of his mop of hair.

Donghyuck giggled, high and light. He seemed to push up off the ground, and he rose and didn’t fall. He hovered a couple feet above the dusty, wrecked road.

“You can fly?” Mark asked, voice distant, as he watched Donghyuck wobble slightly, his arms out, suspended in the air.

“A bit, yeah,” Donghyuck was grinning, smirking. His eyes stood out, dark and dancing in the midst of his fiery face as he gazed down at Mark. And, God, Mark loved him.

Oh. God. Mark blinked, dazed as it hit him with the force of a freight train. He loved Donghyuck, didn’t he?

Nothing made sense in his world. His best friends all had freakish abilities and were helping him face off against a man who could seemingly bend the earth to his will. But Mark had landed on the one thing he felt sure of, the sole thing that fit right. He loved Donghyuck. Mark loved a boy of flames, who smelled of campfires and coming home, who spoke with quick wit and a sharp tongue and who never failed to send his heart racing.

Chenle made a choked out sound at Mark’s side, and the reality of where they were and the task they’d set out to accomplish came rushing back to Mark. It was impossible to push his new revelation to the back of his mind, impossible to think anything other than ‘Holy shit I’m in love with Donghyuck’, from the moment he’d thought it first. But Mark had to try. He hadn’t time to properly address it. Not with the earthquake man at work destroying the city in front of them.

“Alright,” Mark said, weak, “Shall we, then?”

He readied himself to take off sprinting, feeling coiled tight like a spring. Donghyuck rose higher and higher above him. Chenle sent him a panicked, desperate look as if to say they’d be talking over Mark’s realization later. Mark nodded grimly, resigned, before he looked up to Donghyuck above him. Feeling as warm as though he were standing beneath the actual sun, he shot up a thumbs up and got a peace sign in response.

And as one, they took off towards the earthquake man.

Mark jumped from rock ledges to overturned cars, sprinting in between, as Donghyuck blazed by overhead. They passed Jeno, blasting through rock slabs and dodging falling debris. They passed by Jaemin, cracking in and out of existence, accompanied by men in suits and women in heels who quickly ran away after he dropped them off on the sidewalk.

Mark glanced up, to see Renjun with his wings spread wide, standing in a broken pane of a window. Officeworkers slowly clambered out from the window, sliding down the rock ledge that had punctured their work building. Renjun’s spread wings protected them from glass shards falling from above.

Mark looked ahead, speeding up. He leapt over rocks that rose from the road like ocean waves, paralyzed on the precipice of crashing. When he alighted on the ground, his chest heaving, Mark stopped. He froze, as he made eye contact with the earthquake man.

The man was facing their way, his arms extended, his expression contorted. As Mark stood, still staring at his apoplectic glare, the utter fury written on his features, the man moved. He whipped one arm around, as if he was scooping the air with his hand. And then, an eerie creaky noise and Donghyuck’s panicked shout from above of “Mark, watch out!” was all the warning Mark had before a spike of rock, a thick slab that ended in a sharpened point and was as long as his car, rose from the earth by him.

Mark dropped to the ground, quick enough that he scraped his palms and the length of his forearms. But those wounds would be gone soon. He couldn’t let them slow him down.

Mark rolled away from the rock spike. He pushed up, and started running again towards the man, shouting a quick “Thanks!” up at Donghyuck. Lesson learned, Mark thought. No freezing up. Don’t give the earthquake man a second to work with.

The man let out a yell, an incomprehensible roar of pure rage, no words, as Mark and Donghyuck advanced. He lowered his arm again, and Mark took a measured inhale, preparing himself to jump away in a moment if the man sent another rock spike his way. But the man pushed straight up and, when the creaking noise followed, it came from behind Mark.

He was powerless to help, as he looked back and a massive rock spike shot up at impossible speed, knocking a car aside as it rose. Donghyuck only just managed to skirt around the pointed tip of the spike, dropping, wobbling, as all of his attention was diverted to dodging the sudden obstacle.

Mark felt as if his heart was being held in a vice, stopping it at its breakneck pace, as Donghyuck took seconds that felt more like hours to regain his balance.

“Donghyuck!” Mark shouted, his throat straining, aching.

Donghyuck shot down an ‘okay’ sign his way, though he was still visibly shaking. He wasn’t able to fly forward as quickly as he had before the spike had disrupted him.

“Don’t watch me, idiot!” Donghyuck shouted down at Mark, a hint of irony just detectable in his winded yell, “Watch the road!”

Mark might’ve laughed, if he wasn’t still trying to breathe normally again. He couldn’t recall a moment he’d felt as scared as he had when he saw the spike going straight to Donghyuck. Even staring down the barrel of a gun hadn’t sent as much terror through him as he’d felt in that moment.  

Vision going red, Mark turned. Smell and sound and everything aside from the man standing before him fell away. The man’s hand was still raised from when he’d shot the spike at Donghyuck, and he had a sneer on his despicable face.

Mark ran. He raced, he leapt forward and before the man could so much as twitch his pinkie finger, Mark had reached him. Mark vaulted, using his momentum to his advantage to jump forward and tackle the man to the asphalt below.

The man let out a loud yell as his back thumped against the ground. Mark was getting sick of all his screaming. Fluidly, with grace that had only come from a month’s worth of practice, Mark drew his hand back, curled his fingers in, and extended his claws.

“Don’t move,” Mark growled, sticking his claws in the man’s face. The middle one was only a hair’s width from brushing up against his nose, “Don’t even blink.”

For a moment, Mark thought he had him. For a moment, the man stared up at him, past his claws, his eyes wide and open and his mouth gaping open. Then, Mark watched the man’s eyes slide down, to his claws. He could tell the second the man saw the shake, the tremor in his claws, as his curled hands practically rattled with barely restrained emotion. The man’s eyes narrowed, and he let out a high laugh.

“Why are you-- I told you not to move,” Mark’s growl had gone higher, “Stop laughing. Why are you laughing?”

“Should I be cowering in fear?” the man taunted. His lips curled up into a relaxed smile, “You can’t even look at those things. You’re not going to use them on me.”

“Shut up,” Mark barked, his voice low and uneven.

He hefted his arm up high, brought it back down again, waiting for the flinch, the familiar sign of fear in the man’s eyes. But the man didn’t flinch. He just laughed, again. And then, his own arm moved. Mark barely caught the movement out of the corner of his eye, before he had to duck and roll away. A spike shot forward, the point of it tipped right at the spot where his head had been only a split second before.

Mark panted, from his crouch. His eyes were caught on the tip of the spike, air catching in his throat on the way in. He was furious. Not with the man, but with himself. He stood up, slashing his claws against the pavement in his frustration, growling. Mark darted back, away from the man, sheathing his claws.

He’d allowed himself to be provoked, and he’d forgotten the one lesson he’d learned. Not to give the man even a moment of space, not to spend even a second standing still.

As Mark retreated, the growing, familiar smell of crackling fire filled his nostrils and cleared his mind. Donghyuck dropped down from the sky, landing right next to the man’s head. His hand was raised, and he had gathered a ball of flames within it .

“Hey, asshole,” Donghyuck’s voice was hard as steel. He wasn’t covered in flames any longer, but his eyes were completely ablaze, “Heads up.”

Donghyuck flung the fireball down. The man yelped and spun away just in time. Donghyuck’s fireball landed with a fiery sizzle at the place where his head had just been a second before. Already, Donghyuck had his hand up again, and was gathering more flames.

Mark watched helplessly as the man scrambled frantically back from Donghyuck’s advance.

“I like exactly five people in this shithole world,” Donghyuck threw another ball of flames, eliciting another cry from the man. He’d turned, and was starting to crawl away from Donghyuck on his hands and knees, “And you almost just killed one of them. You’re really starting to piss me off.”

Mark’s heart clenched, as he watched Donghyuck walk towards the man with an aura of deathly calm, his face ignited with fury and flames. Donghyuck threw another fireball and, at last, it managed to land on target. It blasted into the man’s shoulder, setting his shirt alight.

The man screamed, as he dropped and started to beat himself, trying to put the fire out.

“Donghyuck!” Mark had to yell to be heard over the man’s pained screams, “Stop! What the hell are you doing?”

Donghyuck’s aim was uncharacteristically off. His hands, Mark noticed, were shaking. There was a slight but distinct tremor, putting his blasts off course. But Mark felt surer than anything that, had Donghyuck’s aim been better, he would’ve hit the man’s head.

Donghyuck froze. He looked over his shoulder at Mark. His eyes were flickering with the reflection of the flames that had engulfed one side of his body.

“He’s a dick, Mark,” Donghyuck said, his voice low and perilously even, “He destroyed half the city. He almost hurt you. I’m just gonna burn him a little. Why’re you stopping me?”

Because he’s not worth it, Mark thought. That man’s life is not worth the hours of sleep you’ll lose ending it.

Mark hadn’t even killed that man with the knife by the riverside, but he still saw his slack face every night as he tossed and turned and sleep evaded him. He’d never want Donghyuck to have to go through the same thing, not if he had any say.

“Stick to the plan,” is what Mark said, instead. Then, because he’d learned his lesson about waiting too long, he said, “Move aside.”

Donghyuck stood still, for a moment. He stared at Mark, half his body ablaze. Then, after a beat, he closed his hand into a fist and extinguished the miniature sun he’d gathered. He stepped aside. With Donghyuck out of the way, Mark could see that the man had nearly gotten rid of the flames covering his own shoulder.

“Thanks, Donghyuck,” Mark said, a sigh. He’d never cease being impressed with the amount of control Donghyuck had over himself, compared to him, compared to the rest of them. Even with emotion afflicting him and throwing his aim off.

Mark curled his own fingers into a fist, took a breath. No claws, not this time.

“Yeah, whatever,” Donghyuck grumbled. He gestured Mark ahead, “Go on. Knock Rocky out.”

Mark had to smile at that, despite himself. He leapt forward, landed at the tips of the man’s toes. Mark watched the man’s shoulders jump. He gazed down as the man turned around, falling onto his backside. He didn’t even scramble away, as Mark dropped down, curling his fingers into a fist and holding his claws back.

“I wasn’t too afraid to use my claws on you, by the way,” Mark growled. Confusion flitted across the man’s face, briefly taking over and concealing the terror that had been there before, “I was nice enough not to.”

Then Mark brought his fist forward and, with a light punch, decked the man in the face. The man’s eyes slid shut, and he fell back. His body lay limp, amongst the debris from all the destruction he’d singlehandedly caused.

Mark stared down at him, feeling relief, overwhelmingly, but also consternation. He wondered if Renjun’s speculation was right in that the man was motivated out of spite for society’s treatment of him. Mark supposed he could go the rest of his life without discovering the truth behind the man’s motivations, if it meant he never had to listen to him speak again.

“Donghyuck,” Mark turned back, “Can you watch him while I get Chenle?”

Before Donghyuck could even open his mouth, the top of Chenle’s purple hair popped up from behind the nearest of the stone waves Mark had leapt over.

“Is he out?” Chenle called, cupping his hands around his mouth.

Mark sighed, “Chenle, were you there this whole time? I told you to stay back.”

“And you actually expected him to listen?” Donghyuck snorted. Mark turned back to him, to shoot him a look. Donghyuck shrugged, unbothered.

Chenle trotted up, joined Mark at his side. He was slightly out of breath as he surveyed the man’s still body, huffing.

“Dang,” Chenle frowned, vexed, “This guy’s really not happy.”

“You think?” Donghyuck deadpanned, glancing to Mark, a bit of a smirk on his face. Mark’s heart was only just nearing its normal rate, but he had to smile back.

“Go do your thing, Chenle,” Mark said, turning his smile to the younger boy. Chenle crept forward, picked around the debris surrounding the man’s body. He knelt by the man’s head.

“It’s just, like, really weird,” Chenle looked up at Mark, his brows drawn together, “People’s emotions are usually mellowed out when they’re unconscious. They’re kinda like softer versions of what they feel when they’re awake? Uh, for example, when you’re asleep, super passionate love can turn into comfortable contentment.”

Mark wondered at that particular example Chenle had chosen. Suddenly, he wasn’t so keen on turning to Donghyuck to see his reaction. And, suddenly, all he became aware of was Donghyuck right at his side. Donghyuck shifted, seemingly equally discomfited.

“Okay, and?” Donghyuck muttered.

Chenle looked back down at the man. He screwed up his nose, thoughtful.

“And this guy’s feelings aren’t mellow at all,” Chenle said, soft.

He shook his head, and lowered his hands toward the man. The tips of Chenle’s fingers had scarcely made contact with the man’s head before Mark’s entire body tensed, alarm bells ringing.

The smell of freshly overturned earth filled his nostrils. There was the slight creaking, groaning of the road’s pavement as it gave way. That was all the warning Mark had before the man’s eyes snapped open and he surged forward, causing Chenle to fall back. The man pushed his hands forward as he moved away from Chenle, in one harsh motion.

Mark hadn’t time to think beyond the near incomprehensible worry that the next rock spike would be headed towards Donghyuck. He turned, saw Donghyuck’s eyes widening as if in slow motion, the adrenaline pumping through his veins making the entire world move as if at half speed. Then Mark raised his hands and shoved Donghyuck away, pushing him out of the path of whatever the man might be sending their way.

Turns out, Mark needn’t have bothered.

When the spike pierced Mark’s side, his only coherent emotion beyond the black-out of utter, overwhelming pain was relief. He’d guessed wrong. The man hadn’t been aiming for Donghyuck after all.

At first, every breath Mark took ached, every expansion and contraction of his chest. Then, the spike pushed further and further through him, skewering him sideways. And Mark cried out, though he could hardly breathe at all. Donghyuck was frozen, laying on the ground, gazing up at Mark as though shellshocked.

Mark struggled to take another breath, the air rattling in his lungs as he inhaled. Then, another spike came up from the road in front of him. He watched, heart hammering, as it barely grazed by the sleeve of Donghyuck’s hoodie before it flew forward, and pierced Mark’s chest straight-on.

If the first had been painful enough to make Mark black out momentarily, the second was enough to make him long for a quicker end. He could only hope that the next spike would be aimed at him, too. If the man moved on to Donghyuck or Chenle Mark wouldn’t be able to help. Not at all. Mark’s shoulders shook with hardly suppressed sobs. He couldn’t tell they were shaking out of pain or anger. Frustration, maybe, at himself.

Mark shut his eyes. He could hardly see anyways, with them clouding over. He ran through where the plan could have gone wrong. It all came down to him. He took too long to knock the man out. He didn’t use enough force. He didn’t think of pinning the man down while Chenle worked on his mind.

“--m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Chenle’s voice. Wet. Teary.

Mark cracked his eyes open, checked Chenle through them. He could see Chenle’s purple hair, as if through a thick, hazy fog. Chenle’s head was ducked, and he’d seemed to have successfully caught hold of the man. His fingers were curled around the man’s wrist.

The man had risen from the ground, but he wasn’t moving. He had stilled. Mark blinked, again, longer this time. He thought that maybe that meant Chenle had succeeded. But he couldn’t think much at all, really. Was there any part of him that didn’t ache, that didn’t newly hurt with every breath he took, every muscle he twitched, every beat of his heart?

“Mark.”

Donghyuck.

Mark heard the sound of gravel shifting, scraping. Mark forced his eyes open, breathing heavy with how much even just that took from him. It was getting harder and harder to stay awake, stay breathing.

“Mark, ” Donghyuck pushed up off the ground and ran to Mark.

His face was clear, though the rest of the world was clouded over. His face... Mark’s erratic heart beat slowed, just for a moment, as he saw Donghyuck’s face. The expression on it, as pained if Donghyuck was the one who’d been struck twice over, not Mark.

Donghyuck drew as close as the rocks would allow. His fingers alighting first on the spike that stuck into Mark’s chest, then Mark’s chest, the wound that wouldn’t heal. Couldn’t heal, not while the rock was still embedded there.

“Mark,” Donghyuck repeated, and it seemed Mark’s name was the only word he knew.

His hand rose, to Mark’s cheek. His touch was soft, warm, familiar. Mark closed his eyes, imagined he could feel the pain draining from him. In its place, the comfort Donghyuck’s presence brought.

“Mark!” Donghyuck’s cry came, strained, “Don’t-- don’t fucking do this to me.”

Mark wanted to ask what ‘this’ meant. He tried to speak, but his mouth was flooded, filled, the blood from his punctured lungs dashing any hope he had of speaking. He parted his lips, felt some of it trickle out from the side of his mouth, warm and thick.

Mark hated his powers, in that moment. If he were anyone else, he’d be gone already. Unconscious already, not in pain. Not having to hear Donghyuck’s sobs, quiet and stifled like even now he couldn’t bear to let Mark hear him cry.

Donghyuck’s hand shifted. His thumb swiped the corner of Mark’s mouth, brushing the blood off.

“Open your eyes, Mark,” Donghyuck whispered, desperately. His voice was so close, “Stay with me. Please.”

Mark’s breathing was coming in short and shallow. His heart was beating so quick, filling his lungs with blood. He couldn’t feel his toes. He didn’t know if the rock spikes had pierced his spine or if something had fallen and crushed them.

But Donghyuck was asking, and he was desperate enough to say please.

Mark lifted his eyelids, though they felt as heavy as if they’d been weighed down. He opened his eyes, though everything aside from Donghyuck was a blur, smeared over with black and crimson. Mark didn’t know if he was seeing things but he was grateful, at least, that the distortion had spared him Donghyuck.

Donghyuck’s cheeks were shiny, wet with tears, and Mark’s pitter patter heartbeat ceased for a second to see it. Donghyuck’s breath caught in his throat, as his eyes met Mark’s.

“Hey,” Donghyuck choked out, “Hey. You’re gonna be okay, got me?”

Mark wanted to laugh. He wanted to be able to speak, so he could tell Donghyuck that he didn’t really feel as hopeful about his chances as Donghyuck did. But he suspected that Donghyuck was trying to convince himself, more than Mark.

“Know how I know?” Donghyuck whispered. Mark’s ears pricked, as the sound of additional footfall came to him.

With utmost effort, Mark shook his head. He didn’t know. He had to drop his head after. It felt so heavy. Everything felt so heavy. He just wanted to drop, to fall. But the stupid rock spikes that had punctured his side and his chest wouldn’t let him.

Donghyuck must have brought his other hand forward. With both of his hands, he cupped Mark’s jaw. He cradled him, raised his head up with utmost gentleness. Through cracked lids, Mark could see Donghyuck’s gaze was ignited, aflame.

“You’re the most frustrating person I’ve ever met, remember? I know you, Mark Lee. You’re too damn stubborn to die.”

Mark wanted to tell Donghyuck that he had a bit too much faith in him, that even he had a breaking point. Weak spots. He wasn’t invincible, after all.

“Hyuck, I’m gonna try and free him from those,” Jeno’s voice, strained and nearly out of control, “You need to move.”

“No,” Donghyuck uttered, his voice taking on the desperate edge again. His hand shifted. He brushed Mark’s bangs from his sweaty brow, “I’m not leaving him.”

Mark’s muscles couldn’t withstand the strain of keeping his head up any longer. He relaxed, let his head drop, fall into Donghyuck’s palm. His eyelids too-- they were too heavy to bear. He closed them. Donghyuck made a low noise, almost a keen.

“Hyuck,” Mark had never heard Renjun sound so tender. It was strange, on him.

“No, no,” Donghyuck’s voice was wracked, “Guys, he’s gonna be okay. He’s not gonna… he’s not gonna die. He’s not allowed to. I haven’t had the chance to-- we haven’t-- he doesn’t know.”

The sound of a whip crack split the air. Mark might’ve jumped, startled, if he could move at all. Jaemin’s voice was nearly as close and Donghyuck’s, when he spoke.

“Hyuck, come on. Jeno’s gotta cut him out. He can’t do that when you’re here.”

“Get your hands off me. I’m not leaving him!” Donghyuck cried out. A moment later, the whip crack sound again shocked the air.

And Mark’s head fell down completely, because Donghyuck’s hand was gone. He felt heavy. He felt cold. So cold, and it was then that he realized the only thing keeping him warm until then had been Donghyuck himself.

Mark relaxed. He stopped fighting the inevitable and gave up. He let the encroaching darkness envelop him entirely. The last sound he was aware of, before all became lost to the ether, was Donghyuck crying, soft and distant.

The afterlife smelled like antiseptic.

That was Mark’s first thought, upon regaining consciousness. Well, no. His first first thought was of Donghyuck, of his cries, of Mark’s desire to be able to open his eyes and walk over to Donghyuck and wipe the tears from his face. But it was his second first thought.

It was weird. Mark hadn’t expected the afterlife to be quite so cold, either. The way he figured it, it was either going to be burning hot or just right. Seventy-two degrees and sunny.

This was neither of those options.

Mark gradually became aware of his body. He could feel his toes. And, though his feet were bare for some reason, being able to tell that at all was a welcome change. He was lying down on something metal and cool. Probably why it felt so cold. He could hear the soft sounds of objects shuffling nearby. Someone was going through something, just to the right of his head.

Mark felt exhausted, more than anything, but the signs of someone else nearby him set him on high alert. Mark’s muscles tensed, and he fought the automatic impulse to open his eyes. If he continued to feign that he was asleep, he could catch whoever it was off guard. He’d manage to give himself a bit of an advantage despite the fact that he was laid out on a cool metal surface.

Mark’s heart picked, kicking into gear, as he heard the sound of shoes whispering against the floor, as the person drew closer. He waited a beat, two. Then, all in one moment, curled his hands into fists, extended his claws, and snapped his eyes open.

Mark jumped up, off the meal surface-- a table, he found, as he opened his eyes-- and pointed his claws right in the face of. Someone. He hadn’t the faintest idea who.

He had black hair and his eyes were wide behind the lenses of his glasses. He looked to be perhaps a few years older than Mark himself and, curiously, he was holding a stethoscope. He looked as though he could be fairly harmless, but Mark had nearly just died. He wasn’t going to take any chances.

“Who the fuck are you?” he growled.

“I’m Doctor Kim,” the guy answered, in a rush, “I’m just checking up on you. Please put those claws away, there’s really no need for them.”

“You’re not a doctor,” Mark snapped.

He wouldn’t be fooled that easily. For one, this guy was wearing a cardigan and slacks. He didn’t have any sort of doctor’s coat on. For another, he looked as though he was hardly old enough to have graduated college.

The guy’s fear flitted from his face, for a moment. His brows drew together, and he opened his mouth.

“I might not technically be a medical doctor, but I still hold several doctorates--.”

Mark growled again, pointing his claws once more in the fake doctor’s face. The fake doctor cut off himself with a yelp. He put his hands up in surrender, dropping his stethoscope to the ground.

“Fine. You don’t have to call me Doctor Kim!” the guy said, strained, his eyes zeroed in on the tips of Mark’s claws, “Call me Doyoung, if it makes you happy. Just please put those away!”

“What?” Mark asked, taken aback.

He really hadn’t been looking for the guy’s first name. Still, going by his awkward demeanor and the way he’d dropped his stethoscope to show Mark he had no plans on fighting him, maybe he wasn’t so much a threat. That animalistic instinct within Mark, the one that hadn’t reared its head in a long while, was waking. It was telling him to trust this stranger, that it’d be worth it.

Mark deliberated, eyes trained on the worry etched on the guy’s features. Then, he sheathed his claws.

“Thank you,” Doyoung exhaled, his shoulders dropping.

“Whatever. Who are you, though?”

Every moment Mark was awake he was only filled with more questions. The room they were in didn’t look like any sort of hospital room he’d seen before. There was far too much stainless steel and cement. There weren’t any windows. Mark sniffed, and he smelled earth.

“Are we underground?” he asked, “Where are we?”

Then, in an instant, Mark’s adrenaline sapped from him. He was left bone tired and feeling every ache and pain from the fight. He stumbled back, until he backed up into the tale he’d woken up on, “Where is everyone? Where are my friends? Are they okay?”

Was Donghyuck okay? Mark wondered, his heart leaping up into his throat. He had no way of telling how long he’d been out, what he’d missed. Slowly, scared of what he might find, Mark reached up to his chest, the spot where the second rock had pierced him.

He felt it. Nothing. No gaping wound, no gash. It was like he’d imagined it. Like it had all been just some awful dream. Mark looked down. He was wearing a shirt he didn’t recognize. Black and slightly oversize, emblazoned with the logo of a band he thought that maybe his father used to listen to.

Pushing down his confusion, Mark lifted the hem of his shirt. He didn’t know what to feel, upon seeing the bandages wrapped around his torso. There was a slight but unmistakable stain of red coloring the fabric of the bandages at his chest and side. It meant he hadn’t imagined the fight with the earthquake man. It meant he’d nearly died, after all. It meant Donghyuck had cried, had begged him not to die as he’d cradled Mark’s head in his hands.

Mark’s breath caught in his throat. Hands trembling, he pulled the shirt back down, covering up the bandages.

“Your friends are all perfectly fine. They’re upstairs,” Doyoung said, measured, “I’d like to check up on you first, but I can take you to see them afterwards.”

“Fuck that,” Mark exhaled.

His heart was soaring upon hearing that rest of the freaks had made it out of the skirmish much better than he. But he had to confirm it. He had to see them for himself. He needed to see Donghyuck. Mark’s heart skipped a beat. The two of them had a lot to talk about.

“You’re taking me now,” Mark added, when Doyoung seemed to have frozen up.

“Fine!” Doyoung said, placatingly, “Just don’t bring out those claws again for goodness’ sake.”

Doyoung seemed to be a nervous talker. As he led Mark from the room with the medical equipment and the metal table, he filled the chilled air with words. Mark felt goosebumps pebble his skin, as he followed Doyoung into an elevator, and the bottoms of his bare feet crossed the cool cement floor.

“--never seen so many mutants fight together. It’s fascinating. I couldn’t tell much from what little footage was broadcasted of your group, but you all seem to have considerable mutations and a decent grasp of how to wield them. You and that pyrokinetic boy in particular. And you’re all teenagers!” Doyoung pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, glancing nervously Mark’s way.

Mark quirked his brow up. He’d only been half listening to Doyoung’s babbling, still thinking about the freaks. His mind kept replaying Donghyuck’s reassurances as Mark had stood, paralyzed and pierced and bleeding out.

“Mutants?” Mark repeated.

The elevator door slid open, revealing a ground floor that looked nothing like the underground floor. Underground had looked as though it belonged in a long forgotten time, with its dim lighting, cement, and steel. Above ground looked like something from an eighties business executive’s wet dream, all wood paneling and oil painting portraits and intricate, ornately patterned rugs.

Mark sniffed. This place smelled expensive. He felt like he was committing a crime, stepping out onto the polished wooden floors with his bare feet, leaving conspicuous prints behind with every step he took.

“Why, yes. Mutants,” Doyoung hummed, thoughtful. He glanced again at Mark, and his brows drew together beneath his fringe, “Oh,” he said, “No, I suppose you wouldn’t know about that, would you?”

Mark shook his head.

“Nope.” With sincerity, and perhaps a bit of rudeness, Mark continued, “To be honest, I’m not really interested in learning about it right now either. Where are my friends?”

The structure they were in looked massive. Mark’s eyes ached even contemplating how far the woodpanelled hallway that lay in front of him seemed to stretch.

Doyoung frowned at him and, for some reason, Mark felt as chastened as if his own mother had frowned at him. Mark twitched. He mumbled a regretful, if slightly sullen apology. Doyoung hummed, again, and the corners of his lips ticked up.

“If I had to guess… I think they’d be in the library. Taeyong said they’d seemed thrilled by it when he first showed it to them,” Doyoung shrugged, turned, and started walking. Presumably in the direction of the library, “You’d think those boys hadn’t seen that many books in ages or something.”

Mark stumbled as he sped to catch up to Doyoung’s brisk pask.

“You have a library?” he asked, distantly.

“It’s not exactly mine,” Doyoung slipped back into his rapidfire chatter, “Though I suppose since I’m the only one who ever uses it, it might as well be…”

Mark tuned him out, as his mind started to reel. What was this place? It seemed far too big for just Doyoung or even him and that friend he’d mentioned. Taeyong. Yet, as Doyoung led him through the dimly lit, ornately decorated floor, Mark wasn’t able to spot a single other soul. He only spotted dust on the decorations, and cobwebs in the corners.

Mark was barely through the library’s towering double doors before he was bombarded by the guys.

“Mark!” came Renjun’s excited shout, prompting a shocked bark of a laugh from Mark.

Renjun swooped down from what looked to be the library’s second level. As he crossed in front of a massive window that spanned both floors of the library, Mark noticed that it was night out. He’d been out for hours at least, he realized.

“Finally admitting you know my name?” Mark asked. His eyes darted around the rest of the library, as he told himself he was just making sure everyone was there.

Jeno was running over, Chenle was hesitantly stepping his way. He heard a crack and a moment later, Jaemin was at his side, grinning brightly. Mark’s heart dropped, as he waited and searched, but the one he’d anticipated most didn’t show. Doyoung had said everyone was here. But there was one conspicuous absence.

“What the fuck? No. Shut up, Marlon,” Renjun reached out, and awkwardly clapped Mark’s shoulder, “I’m relieved to see you’re alive, though.”

“Renjun,” Jaemin sighed, fond, before turning that thousand watt smile back Mark’s way, “What he means is that it’s nice to see the Doc was able to fix you up. You’re looking really good for a guy who literally died for a couple minutes there.”

Mark laughed, a bit airy, a bit dazed. So he hadn’t nearly died. He’d actually died. And he didn’t feel any worse for the wear, aside from a couple small aches in his chest and side. It was so slight compared to how it had felt when Mark was actually out on the street and impaled, that Mark could hardly even notice it.

“Doctor Kim did an amazing job on you. Wow,” Jeno said, tone impressed. His head angled up and down, as if he’d surveyed Mark. Mark felt the beginnings of guilt start to form within him.

“Doctor Kim...” Mark glanced behind him, to make sure Doyoung hadn’t followed him into the library, “That guy’s really a doctor? Huh.”

Mark turned back around to face the freaks, his shoulders hiked up. He wondered if it would be appropriate to ask where Donghyuck was, why he wasn’t here, with the rest of them. If Donghyuck was okay, as Doyoung had said, then why was he the only one not there to greet Mark?

With a pang in his heart, Mark came upon the thought that maybe Donghyuck was avoiding him. Or, at least, avoiding everyone. Including him.

That hurt. The fact that Donghyuck would group him in with everyone else. The fact that, though Donghyuck was Mark’s exception, Mark didn’t know if he was the same thing for Donghyuck. He’d thought-- well, he’d thought that maybe it had meant something, Donghyuck’s assurances for him as he’d stood, dying out on the street. But maybe they’d just been comforting words for a friend that didn’t seem long for this world.

“Hyuckie’s in the mansion’s garden,” Chenle said, quietly. Mark’s eyes snapped to him. Chenle’s eyes wouldn’t meet his. They seemed to be pointed in the direction of Mark’s bare toes, “If you were wondering, I mean.”

Mark felt his face heat up. He wondered what sort of emotions Chenle could have picked up from him, to have zeroed in so quickly on his exact concern.

“I really am really, really sorry, by the way,” Chenle said. He looked up, finally. When his eyes met Mark’s, Mark saw they looked watery.

Mark felt something clench in his chest.

“Chenle,” Mark didn’t know where to start, “You don’t have to be? I mean, everything that went wrong was because of me. Either I fucked up the initial plan, or I fucked up putting it into action.”

Mark shook his head, the corner of his mouth ticking up, “Don’t blame yourself for something you couldn’t have helped, okay? You did everything you could. You stopped the earthquake guy in the end, right?”

Chenle’s lower lip wobbled precariously, and Mark felt a moment of panic. He’d made it worse, somehow.

“Only after he got loose and shot two rocks into you.”

“Ah, well, you know,” Mark looked up at Jeno for help, desperate. Jeno only shrugged at him. Mark grimaced, and tried for a: “I’m all better now?”

“Dear God,” Renjun groaned, “How did he become our leader again?”

Mark winced. But he shuffled forward, laid his hand on Chenle’s shoulder.

“I’m serious,” he started, “Search me. All I feel towards you is gratitude. Chenle, you saved everyone. We’re all fine now, thanks to you.”

Mark could practically feel Chenle’s guilt, a cold, murky force at his fingertips. He suppressed the sudden, irrational desire to whip his hand back. Mark closed his eyes, and focused on projecting the relief he felt at that moment. At seeing his friends (nearly all of them, at least), safe, well, and triumphant after defeating a super powered maniac.

And it was all thanks to Chenle.

For a moment, nothing happened. Chenle remained statue-still beneath his fingertips. Then, Chenle surged forward. He rushed ahead and wrapped his arms around Mark, enveloping him in a nearly crushing hug.

“Oh,” Mark exhaled, strained.

“Maybe loosen your arms a little, Chenle,” Jeno suggested, kindly.

Mark gave him a grateful thumbs up behind Chenle’s back. Chenle’s embrace lessened in intensity, alleviating the pressure from the spot where the first rock had pierced Mark’s side. Before Chenle could launch into another unnecessary string of apologies, Mark wrapped his arms back around him, returning the hug.

“I kinda want to get a picture of this,” Jaemin whispered, loudly, “It’d be a perfect lockscreen, right?”

Mark felt his cheeks heat all over again. Chenle gave him one last tight squeeze, then pulled back. He swiped at the corners of his eyes. Chenle’s eyes crinkled, as a broad smile grew across his face.

“Mark, Jaemin just thinks we’re cute. You don’t have to be embarrassed.”

“You guys are cute,” Jaemin cooed, as Mark squeezed his eyes shut and uttered an automatic, “Yeah, thanks.”

One day he’d summon up the heart to tell Chenle that proclaiming how unnecessary a person’s embarrassment was often only made the embarrassment worse. Not today, not any time soon. But eventually.

For now, Mark would leave it. Chenle looked happy, and Mark had an errant Donghyuck to locate.

“Okay, guys, I think I’m gonna go try and find Donghyuck and talk to him,” Mark barely suppressed a sigh.

His nerves were spiking. His heart was fooling him, making him think he was preparing himself to walk into a dangerous situation. A standardized test, or a free kick. Scratch that. Mark’s body was reacting as if he was about to face down a robber with a gun, or a superpowered man with rock spikes that followed his every move.

Mark knew he didn’t need to be nervous. He was just going to Donghyuck. It was just Donghyuck. Donghyuck had told Mark he’d known him, when the whole world was smeared over black and crimson around him. And Mark knew him too.

Donghyuck would always be comfortable. He would always mean home whether they remained friends or... Mark bit his lip. Looked around, at the rest of the guys.

“So, where’s this garden supposed to be? This place is huge.”

Jeno led Mark through the empty mansion, down woodpanelled hallways and through lush, overdecorated rooms. Mark’s traitorous heart wouldn’t calm, no matter how often he reminded himself that he didn’t have anything to be nervous about.

Finally, Jeno stopped in front of a door that stood out from the rest Mark had seen. It was larger, trimmed with a wooden frame that had floral details carved into it.

“Good luck,” Jeno said, with a smile, as Mark stared at the door and tried not to feel as if he was delaying something inevitable, some seismic shift that would occur whether or not he had any input.

“Thanks,” Mark breathed then, “Wait. With what?”

Jeno just cocked his head at Mark, his smile widening. Then, he turned and started to walk away.

“Wait. Jeno!” Mark hissed. His voice seemed so loud in the empty halls of the mansion, “Why’d you wish me luck? What are you--” Jeno turned around a corner, leaving Mark to feel suddenly, completely alone “--and he’s gone. Okay.”

Mark sighed. He turned back to the door that led out to the garden, took a measured inhaled. Once again, he chastised his own heart for hammering away without his permission. Then he turned the door knob, and pushed outside.

Mark’s breath caught in his throat, as he stepped outside into the garden. It seemed to be some sort of greenhouse, but the word didn’t seem to do it justice. There was a towering ceiling made of glass overtop a snarl of a garden. Even in the dark of night Mark could tell it had probably been a sight to behold maybe half a century prior.

As it stood then, with its flowers barely blooming, just small vibrant buds amidst overgrown vines and dying topiary, it was a sprawling site of decay, of abandonment. It spoke to the emptiness of the rest of the mansion, that there wasn’t even anyone to maintain what might have been a grand garden long ago. Mark kicked a thorny twig out from underneath his bare feet.

The door clicked shut behind Mark, loud in the stillness of the night.

“Fuck off, Jeno,” came a heated voice, from somewhere above Mark’s head, “How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t wanna talk about it?”

And Mark had to smile, despite everything, despite his nerves. Because he loved Donghyuck and Donghyuck was here. And because Donghyuck wouldn’t be Donghyuck if he weren’t a little bit prickly.

Mark looked up, and find a dark silhouette of a figure, crouched over in an open panel of the greenhouse’s glass roof. Beyond Donghyuck, the sky was clearer than Mark had ever seen it in the city. The stars shone bright as anything, brilliant white pinpricks embedded against the pure, deep indigo of the nightsky.

“Would you be willing to talk to me, though?” Mark called up to Donghyuck, cupping his hand around his mouth.

The figure shifted. Mark wished he could see Donghyuck’s face.

“Mark?” he asked.

In an instant, the anger completely gone from Donghyuck’s voice. It made him sound soft, tentative. And Mark loved that about Donghyuck too. That he could be both in the span of one moment to the next, fiery to hesitant in no time at all.

“Yeah,” Mark answered, grinning, “Come down here, Donghyuck.”

No sooner had he asked than the dark silhouette lit up, bursting into flames. Mark’s heart skipped a beat as Donghyuck glided down to land a few yards in front of him. As he burned, he illuminated the shadowy garden in orange and amber hues.

When he landed, the smell of burnt grass filled the air. A small, ashy set of footprints were left behind as he walked towards Mark. His flames dimming, leaving him seem to briefly glow orange for a lasting moment before his skin faded back to normal. Mark felt like laughing. He felt so lucky to have met Donghyuck, to know him. There was no one else like him.

Donghyuck kept walking towards Mark, silent, his face unreadable in the dark of the garden. And Mark felt his heart jump up and up, into his throat, as he stood frozen, paralyzed, waiting for Donghyuck to reach him.

Donghyuck was suddenly close enough for his face to be inches from Mark’s and Mark stopped breathing entirely as Donghyuck leaned in, closer and closer and-- then a sharp pain shot up from his bicep and Mark gasped. He looked down to see Donghyuck had just pinched him.

God. Mark couldn’t believe he’d actually thought, just for a moment there, that Donghyuck had been about to kiss him. Embrace him. Or something. Mark felt his cheeks heat up.

“Ow?” Mark said, though the momentary shock was long gone, “What was that for?”

“You idiot,” Donghyuck hissed.

“You complete--” Donghyuck raised his hand, presumably to pinch Mark’s other arm, and Mark backed away a foot or so, putting distance between him and Donghyuck’s questing fingers, “-- imbecile.”

It wasn’t that Mark had presumed anything about how he and Donghyuck’s reunion would go down. But the walk from the library to the garden had been long, and he’d let his mind wander a little. And none of the scenarios he’d constructed for their meeting had played out quite like this.

“Oh, you can stop running away,” Donghyuck seethed, taking another step forward to make up for the step Mark had stumbled back, “I’m done. I just had to get you back. First, for fucking heroically sacrificing yourself. Who the shit actually does that? What were you thinking?”

Donghyuck’s voice cracked, towards the end of his last question. He grimaced but, otherwise, ignored it. Mark blinked. He waited a moment, before he realized that Donghyuck’s question might not have been rhetorical after all.

“I, uh,” Mark winced, “I didn’t have time to think? I just didn’t want you to get hurt,” and then, because that sounded a bit too close to the secret Mark held, and Mark wasn’t sure this was exactly the right moment to bare that, he rushed to continue, “Because, you know, if I get hurt, I heal. And if you do, you… don’t.”

Donghyuck stilled, staring up at Mark with eyes that crackled below brows that were pulled low in clear frustration.

“If I do, I don’t? What?” Donghyuck stared at Mark for a moment longer, before he shook his head, “And you didn’t heal, Mark. For all we knew, you were dead. Then a big black van drove up and I had to hold you still throughout the hourlong ride to the middle of buttfuck nowhere and Chenle and Renjun were crying and I was--,” Donghyuck stopped in the middle of a sentence, his throat closing off. He looked away, and Mark saw that his eyes were glinting, shining in the dark.

Mark felt his heart clench, felt his own throat ache. He almost reached out to Donghyuck, before he thought better of it and froze. He slowly let his hand drop back down.

“And I was pretty fucking not alright about it, either,” Donghyuck finished, looking back at Mark. His eyes were blazing, though Mark could see they were rimmed with red. He wondered how long Donghyuck had cried. Just how long his tears had lasted, from the moment Mark lost consciousness.

Even if Mark’s throat was clear, he didn’t know if he’d be able to speak a thing. What were you supposed to say, when the person you loved more than anyone else in the world was upset because they’d had to hold your dying body? This wasn’t the kind of thing they taught you about in health class.

He supposed he’d start the only way he could. With an apology.

“I’m sorry,” he said, simply.

Donghyuck scoffed, in disbelief. He squeezed his eyes shut, and ducked his head. Mark paused. He had to shake his head, because that wasn’t quite right either.

“Wait. I’m sorry you had to go through that, but I don’t regret doing what I did,” Mark swallowed, as Donghyuck looked back up at him, with lowered brows. He continued, “Donghyuck. I don’t care if I got hit. That was nothing, as long as it meant you were--.”

It was Mark’s turn to cut himself off. He couldn’t finish his sentence. He couldn’t say how far he’d go to make sure Donghyuck was safe. Even if he meant it, he couldn’t say it.

“Donghyuck,” Mark said, firm, “When it comes to you, I’m not always going to make the safest decision. I’m always going to put you first. I can’t help it.”

Donghyuck inhaled, sharply. His eyes were widening, his brows raising. His face slowly shifted, from frustration to confusion.

“You can’t help it? What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, his voice suddenly small, unsure.

Mark shifted uncomfortably, under his eyes. Donghyuck was too clever by half, too smart for Mark. He’d picked up exactly on the path Mark was terrified to tread down-- unveiling the extent of his feelings for Donghyuck.

“You know what it means,” Mark answered. Because Donghyuck would. Because Mark’s cheeks were already burning and he’d never said the words before, not to anyone. He didn’t even know if he could say them.

Donghyuck exhaled, and his eyes slid shut.

He looked different in the moonlight, Mark realized. Still as beautiful and fascinating as ever, still a sight that drew Mark in, despite himself, despite the fact that he knew better. But, in the day, he shone golden and bright. At night, his brightness was subdued. More intimate, maybe. Like he shone for Mark alone.

“You might have to spell it out for me,” Donghyuck said, before he opened his eyes again. If he’d closed them to try and extinguish the fires within them, it hadn’t worked. They still crackled, low and redhot like the last embers in a fireplace.

Mark’s heart was racing. It always did, when he was with Donghyuck. Mark bit his lip. Then he threw caution to the wind, opened his mouth, and started to speak.

“I don’t know if you’ve realized this already but,” Mark shook his head, “I’m kinda stupid about you. I’m stupid in the way that just seeing you makes me smile, you know? I wasn’t kidding when I said the sun suits you. Everything’s brighter when you’re around.”

Mark paused, to allow himself to check on Donghyuck, to search him for any adverse reaction to Mark’s confession. Donghyuck just looked dumbstruck, frozen. Mark made himself take in a deep breath. He didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing. He just plowed on, wanting to get it all out in the open.

“This...” Mark touched the spot on his side, where the first spike had pierced him, “and this...” he moved his hand up, to his chest, where the second one had driven through him, “were worth it, trust me. You might not know it, but you’ve saved my life too, Donghyuck. Without you, I don’t know where I’d be. I don’t know who I’d be. I just know that I’m in a better place with you. I’m a better person, because of you.”

“Oh,” Donghyuck exhaled, more a breath than a word. His lips were barely parted, his eyes searching.

And Mark could only hope he found what he was looking for.

Donghyuck moved. He raised his hand, slow. With the lightest touch, he laid it on Mark’s chest. Right on the place the stone had driven through only hours before, only inches from the spot where Mark’s heart lay.

Mark’s had to remind himself to breathe evenly. His heart was thudding in his chest. He wondered if Donghyuck could feel it. If he could tell the effect he had on Mark.

Donghyuck’s gaze dropped to his hand, for a moment. When he looked up, his eyes were burning low. There was just the faintest crimson tint to them. Donghyuck moved forward, his hand held fast above Mark’s racing heart, and leaned in. Donghyuck pressed a searing kiss to Mark’s cheek and Mark could only blink, stunned.

“What was that for?” he breathed, wondering if it was too soon to ask for another. He could still feel the lasting warmth that Dongyuck’s kiss had left on him.

Donghyuck pulled back, just far enough to catch Mark’s eyes.

“I love you too,” Donghyuck said. His voice was even and sure, as he gazed at Mark and saw right through him.

“And if you died, I...” Donghyuck lowered his gaze again. Lightly, his fingers curled on Mark’s chest, clenching the fabric of the borrowed shirt, “... I don’t know what I’d do. So don’t you ever pull shit like that again, okay?”

Donghyuck had called Mark stubborn, as Mark was frozen, impaled, and dying. And maybe Mark could be stubborn, in every other instance.

But Donghyuck’s hand was twisted in his shirt, warming him through the bandages wrapped around his body, reaching his heart. And Donghyuck had just said those words, the ones that had floated around in the back of Mark’s mind since he’d seen Donghyuck aflame. And Mark couldn’t ever hold out too long, not when it came to Donghyuck.

“I-- okay,” Mark said, his throat threatening to close up, “I’ll try my best.”

Donghyuck exhaled, as if he’d been holding his breath. He looked up at Mark. The corners of his lips twitched up, into a hesitant smile. Mark wanted him to beam, though. He wanted him to burn bright.

“Donghyuck,” he started.

Emboldened by Donghyuck’s confession, he reached out and grasped Donghyuck’s wrist. Donghyuck’s wrist was thin as anything, but burning hot to the touch. Mark could hear Donghyuck let out a gasp. Mark couldn’t tell if it was from the contrast of their skin, from how cold Mark probably felt compared to him, or for another reason entirely.

Donghyuck gazed at him, lips parted, waiting. Mark’s heart lurched in his chest. For the second time that night, he threw caution to the wind.

“I love you,” he said, with just as much conviction as Donghyuck had said it.

Mark was rewarded instantly for the risk. Donghyuck’s lips curled into a pleased smile, his cheeks lifting, the moonlight softening the lines of his face, making him look even warmer.

“I kinda figured,” Donghyuck said, though he still sounded breathless, relieved. Mark felt the same. That hadn’t been as frightening as he thought it’d be. And, if those words were all it took to make Donghyuck smile like that, he had the feeling he’d be saying them over and over again.

“Just making sure you knew,” Mark grinned.

He angled closer and, as he did, he slid his hand down Donghyuck’s forearm. Donghyuck’s next exhalation came out uneven. His eyes widened, as Mark moved in. Mark’s pinkie hit the crook of Donghyuck’s elbow. He released Donghyuck’s arm, reached around to rest his hand at the small of his back. Even through his shirt, Mark could feel how he burned.

“Mark Lee,” Donghyuck whispered his name, giving him pause, “Are you going to kiss me?”

Mark froze, his lips scant inches from Donghyuck’s.

“I was planning on it, yeah.”

Mark was paralyzed by Donghyuck’s words. He tried to gauge what they’d meant. Donghyuck had sounded amused, almost. His eyes were firmly fixed on Mark’s lips, and he was smiling that soft, pleased smile, but Mark wanted to be sure.

“Is that okay?” he asked.

Donghyuck laughed, light. The sound of it chipped away at the slight doubt that had managed to creep inside Mark. Then, Donghyuck curled his fingers tight in Mark’s shirt and tugged him forward.

Their lips crashed together. The sound of shock that escaped from Mark was muffled by Donghyuck’s mouth. Donghyuck released Mark’s shirt, slid his hand up, skating over Mark’s heart, past his collarbone. Mark closed his eyes, as Donghyuck’s hand reached the nape of his neck. Donghyuck held him in a featherlight touch that sent shivers down Mark’s spine.

Mark adjusted, angled his face so their lips slotted more neatly together.

As impatiently as Donghyuck had tugged him forward, Donghyuck kissed almost the opposite. His lips, soft and plush, barely brushed up against Mark’s. He moved tentatively, hesitant. Donghyuck kissed like it was a question, and Mark was the answer.

Mark had to smile, because that was just like Donghyuck, to kiss in exactly the opposite way he would have imagined.

Mark lifted the hand that wasn’t on the small of Donghyuck’s back. He brushed his thumb along the crest of Donghyuck’s blazing cheek, slow, taking his time. Facing Donghyuck so close felt like he was laying out in summertime, facing the noon sun, its beams warming him within and out.

Mark had to pull back to catch his breath, just for a moment. Donghyuck whined, made a soft sound of protest.

And the sound was all it took for Mark. He leaned back in again. His heartrate spiked, as he sucked in Donghyuck’s lower lip. Donghyuck let out a gasp against Mark’s mouth. Mark felt the warmth within him spread all the way to his fingers and toes, as Donghyuck pressed back against him. In an instant, Donghyuck had shifted-- from shy and hesitant, to eager, desperate.

Donghyuck’s hand slid up, from Mark’s neck. His fingers carded through Mark’s hair. Donghyuck pulled back. He took a deep, tremulous breath.

“Mark,” he sighed, as though he was too shaken to summon up any other word. Then, Donghyuck moved in again. His tongue darted out, hot and wet, to trace the line where Mark’s lips met. Mark laughed, and opened up for him.

Once they’d kissed long enough to bear breaking apart for a couple minutes, Mark and Donghyuck had searched the garden for somewhere to sit. They found a dried up fountain, its basin the size of a kiddie pool and filled with tall grass and dandelions. Mark had brushed the dirt off the low ledge surrounding the fountain and tugged Donghyuck down to sit with him.

Half an hour later, they remained in the same position. Mark’s toes were tickled by dandelion leaves and blooms, the muscles in his arms barely straining from the time spent propping Donghyuck up on his lap. Donghyuck’s legs were folded neatly atop the ledge, his knees framing Mark’s hips. Mark should probably have been shivering. It was cold enough in the garden, in the dead of night, that he could hardly feel his toes. But Donghyuck kept him warm.

“Gah,” came a sound of disgust at Mark’s back, shattering the mood.

Mark only barely kept himself from chasing Donghyuck’s mouth as he pulled back from him. Donghyuck’s eyes darted over Mark’s shoulder, his lips pulled into a frown. And Mark’s stomach flipped, to see how kiss swollen he’d made Donghyuck’s lips.

“What are you doing out here?” Donghyuck asked, angry. Switching from soft in an instant. Mark turned to look behind him, over his own shoulder.

Jaemin was standing there, frozen. He was close enough for Mark to be able to tell that he had his hand held fast over his eyes, and a grimace on his face.

“I lost a rock-paper-scissors game. Those assholes forced me to be the one to fetch you two.”

Donghyuck’s fingers stiffened where his hand was fixed to Mark’s chest.

“Fuck off. We’re busy.”

Mark pressed his lips together, but he couldn’t help the pleased smile that pulled up the corners of his mouth. The warmth in his chest was so thorough, so complete, he felt full to the brim with it. He couldn’t tell if it was because of Donghyuck’s confession, or because of Donghyuck’s kiss, or even if it was Donghyuck’s hand pressed to him, right over his heart. It might have been all three at once.

Mark turned from Jaemin, and looked back to Donghyuck. He probably smiling like a complete idiot, but he couldn’t find it within him to care. Donghyuck’s eyes flicked to his. His gaze softened. He returned Mark’s smile, small and shy.

“Yeah, no. I get that, trust me. I really do,” Jaemin still sounded shaken. Donghyuck turned his gaze back to Jaemin and his expression hardened again, “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t absolutely have to be. There are things you could go your whole life without seeing,” Jaemin let out a squeak, as Donghyuck’s face shifted to a full-on glare, as the flames in his eyes flared, “Not that you guys aren’t really touching! Oh my God. Anyways, the Doc said that we really shouldn’t wait anymore, now that Mark’s up and walking.”

That was finally enough to shake Mark’s mind from Donghyuck, from how his lips felt on his, from the weight of him on Mark’s thighs. He turned back.

“Wait for what anymore?” Mark asked, wondering at the vagueness of Jaemin’s words.

Jaemin shrugged, looking helpless and confused with his hand gone from his eyes, “Beats me. After he said one of us should go get you two he kept like… babbling about nonsense? Wasn’t super helpful but now I know more than I ever thought possible about the caretaking of hermit crabs.”

“Huh,” Mark made a face, “weird.”

But also a relief. If Doyoung was ranting about hermit crabs, he probably wasn’t too worried about whatever was upcoming.

“I hope whatever that prick’s planning won’t take long,” Donghyuck grumbled, shifting atop Mark’s lap.

Donghyuck’s eyes flicked back to Mark, his gaze softening.

“Don’t think this means you’re done kissing me, ‘kay?”

Mark felt a flutter in his stomach, the sensation of something warm taking flight, soaring.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said. The warmth filling him bled through to his words, coloring his tone contented.

Before he could think better of it, he took a risk and did something that had a fifty-fifty chance of either working out decently for him, or making him have to contend with a fireball to the face.

Mark stilled Donghyuck as he shifted atop him, tightening his grasp around Donghyuck’s waist. Then Mark lifted him, as easy as anything, sliding his other hand under Donghyuck. He suspected that even if he didn’t have super strength he could’ve done it. Donghyuck was so light. Donghyuck inhaled sharply, his eyes going wide.

Mark turned atop the fountain’s ledge and got up, sliding his grip up the back of Donghyuck’s thighs, until his arm slotted in the crooks of Donghyuck’s knees.

Donghyuck was burning hot, as Mark carried him. But Donghyuck had plunged into stunned silence. He was staring at Mark with stunned eyes. So Mark quickly, gently, released his hold on Donghyuck’s legs and lowered him to safely stand on the ground.

Mark shifted under Donghyuck’s wide eyed gaze, “It was quicker that way?”

“Warn me next time you plan on doing something like that,” Donghyuck said, sounding breathless.

Mark hadn’t time to blink before Donghyuck leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. Somehow, in just that brief moment, he managed to nip on Mark’s lower lip. Then he pulled back again, the corner of his mouth ticking up. Mark’s hand went up to his lower lip, his heart lurching.

“Oh, God,” Jaemin groaned, “Hyuck’s been body snatched. It’s the only explanation. The real Donghyuck would’ve roasted someone alive if they tried that.”

Donghyuck shot another blazing glare towards Jaemin.

Then, wordlessly, he caught Mark’s hand. Mark held his breath, as they walked out of the garden, through the dimly lit halls of the empty mansion. Donghyuck curled his fingers through Mark’s, his hand a comforting warmth in Mark’s. Mark stared for far too long at Donghyuck’s fingers, where they lay above the dips between his knuckles.

Donghyuck had seen his claws. He knew what they looked like, how they felt. He knew everything Mark had done with them, everyone Mark had hurt. And he was still holding Mark’s hand, acting like he didn’t care. Mark glanced up, to Donghyuck.

Even in the dim light, Mark could tell that Donghyuck’s cheeks were flushed a deep red. He was looking firmly ahead, at Jaemin’s back, his lips pressed together. Mark smiled, reminded once more how grateful he was for Donghyuck, how much he loved him.

But, when you loved someone, you didn’t put them through uncomfortable things. Not if you could help it. So Mark squeezed Donghyuck’s hand, then let go. He untangled their fingers and drew his hand back, shoving it in his pocket, out of reach.

Donghyuck first looked down at his empty hand, then turned his eyes to Mark. His gaze was questioning, his lips twisted. It was getting harder for Mark to maintain his smile, but he tried. He didn’t want Donghyuck thinking that Mark felt he was missing out on anything by not holding his hand. He didn’t want Donghyuck to feel guilty. Most of all, he didn’t want Donghyuck to feel like he had to touch the skin so near Mark’s claws out of some sort of obligation towards him.

Jaemin led them back to the library. Donghyuck turned to Mark and they shared a glance, before they followed Jaemin through the massive wooden double doors.

“Renjun, I hope you’ve got some cash on you, because you owe me and Jeno twenty dollars both,” Jaemin said, nonsensically.

Then, several things happened in such quick succession that they might as well have been simultaneous.

“They confessed?” Jeno asked, his lips spreading into a grin.

Renjun’s mouth dropped open, “They were making out? Full-on making out?”

Chenle jumped up from where he’d been sitting on an armchair. He threw his arms up, his face ecstatic.

“Oh my God! Finally!” he shouted. He bounded over to them, pushing past Jaemin.

“Shit,” Donghyuck intoned.

He barely had time to glance in terror at Mark before Chenle was inches from them. He was bouncing up and down, as if he was so excited he couldn’t control himself.

“Oh my God,” Chenle repeated. You wouldn’t know from looking at him that he’d been crying only half an hour before. He looked the furthest thing from sad as he grinned up at Mark and Donghyuck.

“Jeno made me stay out of it! He said you two would work it out yourselves! I can’t believe freaking Jeno was right,” Chenle’s eyes were crescents, crinkled out at the edges, “Wow!”

Mark blinked, taken aback. He was beginning to think that maybe Donghyuck and himself had been the only ones who hadn’t already known that their feelings for each other were reciprocated.

“It kinda hurts how surprised you sound about that. Of course they were going to figure it out themselves,” Jeno said. His arms were crossed over his chest, but he was smiling too, “I’m not clueless, Chenle. Not when it comes to these kinds of things.”

“Sure,” Jaemin snorted, at the same moment Renjun said, “Beg to differ.”

Jaemin and Renjun shared a surprised look, across the library. Mark laughed. It wasn’t just Donghyuck he was far too fond of. He felt sure, then, that he loved every single one of the freaks.

“You guys too?” Jeno asked, sounding betrayed.

Mark shook his head. He was still grinning, but he stepped in, “Stop ganging up on Jeno, guys. Three against one’s a little lopsided.”

“Thanks, Mark,” Jeno shot him a grateful grin. Mark nodded, though he suspected his request wouldn’t do much to deter Renjun, Jaemin, and Chenle.

Then, someone cleared their throat. Startled, Mark jolted. He turned to face the source of the sound, only to see Doyoung. He was seated on an uncomfortable looking, ornately patterned couch, one leg crossed primly over the other.

“I’m sorry for interrupting-- don’t hurt me!” Doyoung blurted out moments, raising his hands up.

Mark cocked his head, confused. He hadn’t thought Doyoung would still be that frightened of him. But he peered closer, and saw that it wasn’t him Doyoung was directing his panicked gaze towards. Rather, his eyes, wide and terrified, were directed at Donghyuck.

Mark turned to Donghyuck, questioning. Donghyuck shrugged back at him, but his head was ducked, his expression slightly guilty.

“He tried to take you from me earlier and I might’ve gotten a little… blasty before I realized he was trying to help out,” Donghyuck offered, by way of explanation.

“Blasty?”

Mark felt wrong for feeling as amused as he did. It’d be a bit hypocritical to get mad at Donghyuck for blowing up at Doyoung, when he’d done the same exact thing.

“Y’know. Fwoosh,” Donghyuck said, sheepish. The flush that had barely faded from his cheeks was already making its reappearance, coloring his face pink

Mark’s first instinct was to stifle the instantaneous thought that rose to his mind, before he realized he didn’t have to, not anymore.

Mark grinned, despite himself, and let the words on the tip of his tongue spill out, “You’re so cute.”

Mark had already confessed to Donghyuck, and he’d been confessed to in turn. He could say whatever he wanted now.

“Cute?” Donghyuck repeated, faintly. And, oh, Mark was going to have to keep that one in mind. He wanted to see the expression Donghyuck was wearing then all the time. It was a little bewildered, a lot in love.

“Cute?” Doyoung’s shrill, disbelieving tone cut in, “Dear God, what-- No. Nevermind. We don’t have time for this. We have to get you kids back home before your parents send the police after us.”

“Huh?” Mark asked, not sure he’d heard that correctly. He hadn’t been expecting that to be the reason behind Doyoung’s impatience.

Doyoung shrugged, “I mean, I’d love to let you guys stay the night and sleep here. I’m sure you’re all exhausted. But it’s ten at night. Surely your parents are going crazy, worrying over you.”

Donghyuck scoffed.

“That… won’t be an issue, I think,” Jeno confessed, his voice strained.

“Yeah,” Renjun hummed, “I’m about two years too late for my curfew and they still haven’t come after me. So I don’t think you won’t have to worry too much about the cops knocking on your door.”

Doyoung’s expression turned, if possible, even more pinched.

“Ah,” he said, tone carefully neutral, “I see.” And Mark could pinpoint the precise moment he understood exactly why Jeno had claimed their parents’ worry wouldn’t be an issue.

“I guess I don’t have to hurry you kids out after all,” Doyoung frowned, “I suppose you can spend the night here. I you’d like to, that is. We have dozens of rooms for you to choose from. I can get Taeyong to take you back to your homes in the morning.”

Mark was once again brutally reminded that he was the only one of the guys on good terms with his parents. Doyoung’s concerns were valid, but only when it came to him. There was only one issue.

Mark had been able to tell, from the moment he’d awoken on Doyoung’s table, that his phone wasn’t in his pocket. He must have lost it sometime in between losing consciousness and regaining it. But, up until then, he’d had more pressing matters to attend to.

Mark spoke up, awkwardly.

“Could I borrow a phone?” Mark asked, “I need to call my parents and let them know I’ll be out for the night.”

Mark felt bad, leaving his parents hanging. But it was the only choice. Wherever the rest of the guys were, that was where he wanted to be.

Doyoung turned shrewd eyes to Mark, “Of course.”

He glanced around, at the rest of the room, “So you kids are really alright with spending the night in a strange home? I mean, I promise I have no ill intentions or anything. But I’m sure Taeyong wouldn’t mind driving you back tonight.”

“It’s fine,” Chenle said, brightly, “I’d be able to tell if you’re some kind of creep, Doctor Kim! I can tell you’re just looking out for us.”

“Oh,” Doyoung frowned at Chenle, his expression calculating. Mark paused. If Chenle trusted Doyoung, maybe his gut instinct to do the same hadn’t been incorrect after all.

“To be honest,” Donghyuck began, in a drawl. Mark saw Doyoung’s Adam’s Apple bob as he turned to look to Donghyuck, swallowing, “Even if you did try some creepy shit we’d make you regret it.”

“Right,” Doyoung sounded faint, “Good lord, you children are something. It’s no wonder Taeyong took an instant liking to you. You sort of remind me of him, in a way… Anyways,” Doyoung pasted on a brave face. He clapped his hands together, “Shall I show you to the guest rooms?” Doyoung looked at Mark, briefly, “I can take you to a phone, after.”

Mark stared at Doyoung as he rose from the couch, each one of his movements prim and precise. He wondered how it was that Doyoung had so easily rebounded from Chenle’s assertions and Donghyuck’s threats. He also wondered at the ease with which Doyoung had offered his home for the freaks to stay the night.

Mark felt the beginnings of guilt, for looking at Doyoung as some nervous, awkward doctor. It was slowly becoming apparent that there was more to Doyoung than met the eye.

Mark shook his head, as Doyoung led their group from the library. If they were going to be close with Doyoung, if he wanted to find out more about the strange doctor who’d scooped them up from the midst of a destroyed city, he ought to at least correct what he could. He determined that he’d try to make amends for waking up and immediately jumping to threaten Doyoung.

“My name’s Mark, by the way,” he trotted up to Doyoung’s side, “And I’m sorry for sticking my claws in your face.”

“Oh, that’s quite alright,” Doyoung blustered, flapping his hand, “You were disoriented. I mean, I’m not eager for you to do it again, but the first time was understandable.”

Mark darted a glance back, at the rest of the freaks. Donghyuck looked curious, as did the rest of them. He supposed he’d have to share that story with them, later.

He turned back to Doyoung, as Doyoung led them up a grand set of stairs in what looked to be some sort of entrance hall. Overhead was a towering ceiling with a massive unlit chandelier hanging from it, its crystals dripping from it, glinting refracted moonlight in the dark hall.

“If it’s alright to ask... why are you helping us? Why did you pick us up, after the fight?” Mark hesitated. He was glad he didn’t have to look back and see the guys’ faces for his next question, “Why did you save my life?”

Doyoung sucked in his lower lip, “To be honest, Mark, it wasn’t my idea. My friend Taeyong-- he heard about the mutant attacking the city and went down there,” Doyoung scowled, “Against my wishes.”

He shook his head, “Thankfully, your team managed to take the mutant down and Taeyong didn’t have to get involved. But he saw that you were badly injured, and worried how a mutant might fare in a hospital. He offered to bring you back here for treatment. Your friends insisted on being allowed to come along. If I remember correctly, Taeyong said that he had to show them his ability before they allowed him to help.”

“His ability?” Mark repeated.

Doyoung’s friend Taeyong had an ability. He was like them, Mark realized, something leaping up in his throat. And Doyoung had brought up mutants again. He’d called the rock controlling freak a mutant. Mark was beginning to want to retract his previous position. He wanted to know what mutants had to do with anything.

“Oh, man,” Jaemin whistled, “Yeah, you were, like, out for that part.”

Mark turned back just in time to see Donghyuck punch Jaemin in the arm. Not softly, by the loud thump and the subsequent howl of protest from Jaemin.

“Jesus! Sorry!” Jaemin rubbed his arm, grumbling curses at Donghyuck.

“Taeyong’s a shapeshifter,” Jeno said, cutting Jaemin off, “He transformed himself into Donghyuck so Donghyuck would let him move your body into his car. It was…,” Jeno paused, seemingly struggling to find the right word.

“... attention-grabbing,” he concluded, with a one shoulder shrug.

Two Donghyucks, Mark thought, dazed. Just one was almost too much for him to handle. His mind reeled, imagining double that. He looked back, at Donghyuck. Mark’s heart skipped a beat upon seeing that Donghyuck was already looking at him, his expression curious. Mark felt his cheeks heat, and quickly averted his eyes.

After Doyoung showed each of them to a room they could stay in, he led Mark back downstairs. He pointed Mark to a small room lined with shelves, with a gigantic desk of dark wood in the center of it, and told him he could use the phone on the desk.

Mark thanked him, then watched the study door close behind him. He took a heartening breath and punched his mother’s number in on the old, wired phone.

“Hey, Mom,” he said, relieved that when she greeted him back she didn’t sound frantic, or worried. He’d been out late before. His parents trusted him, probably far too much. He explained that he’d lost his phone, first, and couldn’t call. Then he paused, wondering how in the hell he was going to spin the rest of it to his parents.

He smiled, despite himself. A half truth, maybe.

“Sorry for not giving you a heads up but tonight I, uh, went out with a guy I kinda like.”

His mother cheered, congratulating him. After, she reprimanded him for not letting her know beforehand but, overall, she was too happy for him to be too upset.

“Yeah. He’s great,” Mark felt his smile widen. He leaned up against the wooden desk, remembering the feel of Donghyuck’s lips on his, “Really, really great. Hopefully you and Dad will get to meet him soon. I think you’d like him? He’s kinda shy and it takes him a bit to warm up to new people but… he’s amazing, Mom.”

“Wow! I can’t wait to meet him. Sounds like you’re in love already.”

Mark laughed, clear and unburdened. He cast his eyes down, tracing the lines in the wood of the desk with his thumbnail.

“Yeah. Maybe,” was all he said, in reply.

His mother paused. Her thoughtful hum came through crackly over the old phone.

“Not to burst your bubble, but are you getting home any time soon? I heard there was some kind of earthquake in the city? I don’t want you to get caught up in the mess from that. Surely your date’s over by now.”

Mark laughed again.

“It wasn’t exactly a date,” he was hit with a thought, half formed. It was enough to make his heart skip a beat, as he imagined he and Donghyuck’s first proper date. Then, he forced himself to consider the rest of what his mother had said. Perhaps his next answer called for another half truth.

“We’re at a friend’s house right now, and we were thinking of just spending the night here? We’re definitely not anywhere near downtown.”

Not anymore, anyways. Mark waited with bated breath, praying for his mother to accept that.

“One not-date and you’re already spending the night together?”

His mother sounded like she was trying not to laugh. Mark felt his cheeks heat up.

“Mom!” he whined, “It’s not like that. All of our friends are here.”

“I know, Mark!” she couldn’t contain her laugh anymore, “I’m just teasing you, I promise. I trust you! Have a good time with your friends tonight. Try and get some sleep, okay? You don’t want to be sleeping through your classes tomorrow.”

Shit, Mark thought.

Mark was allowed to feel relief for the briefest moment before his mother snatched it away all over again. They had school tomorrow. Mark tried not to groan. It figured. Even dying didn’t mean you got the next day off.

“Thanks, Mom,” he said, weak, “Love you. See you tomorrow.”

“Love you too! Kisses!”

Mark had to smile as he laid the phone back in its cradle, cutting off the call. Suddenly, all he could think of was how the meeting between his mother and Donghyuck would go down. He’d pay to see Donghyuck’s face the moment his mother said something like ‘kisses’ aloud.

The moment Mark stepped out from the study into the mansion’s entrance hall, he thought he was hearing things. The faint but distinct sound of raised voices echoing through the dark, empty halls of the abandoned mansion. It was enough to send shivers down his spine.

Rock-slinging freaks were nothing. Mark would rather face a hundred Rockys than deal with a mansion’s ghosts. He felt relieved (and more than a little embarrassed) when he finally placed one of the voices as Doyoung’s.

Curious, and far too nosy, Mark followed the sound of Doyoung’s and the other person’s voices. He crept down a hallway, pinpointed them as coming out from a wide room that was dimly lit. Mark held his breath, pulled back and out of the light streaming from the room’s door, cracked open.

He pressed himself up against the wall, and listened intently to their conversation.

“--can’t do that,” Doyoung’s voice came. He sounded angry, “Who’d take care of them? I’m busy trying to get that paper published in the Journal of Genetics and you’re--”

“--Never home. Yeah, you’ve said,” Another voice. Also male, also young. It was deep, cutting. Mark’s brows drew together. Doyoung had only mentioned one other person’s name the whole time they’d been at the mansion. The man with the deep voice had to be Taeyong.

“I’d stay for this, though,” Taeyong continued, “I’d stick around for them. Those kids deserve to be with their own kind. But, if you had your way, you’d have us turn them out on the streets to live among the humans.”

Taeyong said humans like it was a curse, some terrible insult. He spat the word out, with disgust.

“Tae,” Doyoung’s voice was softer, “Even if they do end up wanting to stay with us… we’re not equipped to provide for six teenagers. We won’t be able to give them the attention they deserve. Neither of us know the first thing about caring for growing boys, much less growing boys with a whole host of mutations.”

Mark’s mind was reeling. Doyoung and Taeyong had to be talking about the freaks. Taeyong seemed to want to take them in, have them live in the mansion, with he and Doyoung.

Mark was skeptical. He’d only met Doyoung hours before, and he hadn’t even met Taeyong yet. But then, Mark realized that maybe his instinctive inclination towards Doyoung and Chenle’s sense of Doyoung’s trustworthiness were worth something.

And, aside from the earthquake man, Taeyong was the first person after the freaks that Mark knew also possessed abnormal abilities. Maybe they were connected. And, if Taeyong was older, maybe he could help them out a little.

Helping out didn’t necessarily extend to providing them a place to stay that didn’t depend on the good graces of Chenle’s shitty parents, but that would be a hell of a start.

“I can get my friends involved,” Taeyong’s voice was calmer, less angry. He sounded thoughtful, “Johnny would help. Yuta--”

“--I don’t want that swindler stepping foot here. It’s hard enough to maintain the grounds without his sticky fingers making off every other priceless heirloom.”

A loud sigh. Perhaps from Taeyong.

“Then I’ll ask Jaehyun instead. Doyoung, you said that most of them don’t have a home to go back to. This could be their home, don’t you see?”

Mark took a deep breath. Before he could lose his nerve, he slipped into the room they were in, squinting in the light. It looked like some sort of kitchen, though it was far bigger than any he’d seen before.

“You know, that’s not a bad idea,” Mark started, casually.

Doyoung’s lips parted in surprise as Mark glanced nervously at him. Mark turned to look at the red haired man by his side. If pressed, Mark would admit that the red haired man might have even been more handsome than Jeno. Though neither of them held a candle to Donghyuck, of course.

Doyoung seemed to recover first. He pursed his lips together, into a frown.

“Mark, I’m starting to suspect you’re going to be kind of a handful.”

Mark grinned, feeling sympathetic for Doyoung, if Taeyong’s plans actually came to fruition.

“If you think I’m a handful, wait ‘til you get to know the rest of us.”

Doyoung sighed. Taeyong cleared his throat, garnering Mark’s attention. Taeyong’s brows were drawn close together.

“You and I haven’t properly met yet, but I’m Taeyong. I’m a mutant, like Doyoung and you and your friends.”

And, just like that, the last piece of the puzzle slotted into place. All Mark could was quirk a brow and smile a wry grin. They were freaks, sure. But they were more than that. They were more than human. They were mutants. And they’d just met two of their own kind.

“Nice to meet you properly, Taeyong,” Mark reached forward to grasp Taeyong’s hand and shake it, “Thanks for helping us out.”

Taeyong’s mouth curled up, into an amused grin.

“Of course. It was my pleasure,” he released Mark’s hand, and leaned back against the countertop behind him, “Could you elaborate on why you think you and your friends would like to stay here? I agree, of course, but,” Taeyong gestured at Doyoung, who was starting to scowl, “other parties in the room could be persuaded.”

Mark explained their situation as best he could without revealing Chenle’s secret, because it wasn’t his to share. But he made it clear that, though Taeyong and Doyoung would have to ask each and every one of the rest of the guys, he was sure that there’d be those among them who would jump at the chance to live at the mansion.

Mark suspected Renjun and Jaemin in particular would love to have a new space, a wide open area that didn’t seem to be situated in the middle of the city. Here, they could go out and walk around, stretch their legs (and wings) without having to fear reactions from normal people. Humans, if Mark was using Taeyong’s terminology.

Mark shook his head, as he finished his explanation, “Even if they don’t want to stay, I’d be really grateful if you guys could let me come back some time.”

Doyoung and Taeyong weren’t that much older than he, but even a few years of extra experience gave them an edge. Mark still wanted to accumulate all the knowledge he could about his ability, about how best to use it to fight crime. He had the feeling Doyoung and Taeyong could help him with that.

By the time Mark finally bid his goodnight, Taeyong was grinning widely.

Doyoung, had crossed his arms, but he seemed to have crumbled over the course of the conversation. As Mark departed, he had grumbled an, “Alright, I’ll think about it.”

Mark was smiling to himself, as he wandered back to the upper floor of the mansion, back to the area that Doyoung had shown them to, with the guest rooms. Somehow, in one day, he’d helped his friends defeat a mutant maniac, he’d confessed his love to Donghyuck, he’d kissed Donghyuck, and he’d lucked into meeting a couple of older mutants who seemed eager to help he and his friends.

Mark froze when he saw a figure seated down, right outside to the door that led to his room. He crept forward. Donghyuck was curled up, his legs folded up to his chest, his cheek smushed against his crooked elbow he’d laid atop his knees.

Mark felt a pang. Like an ache, but pleasant. Such a strong surge of affection, fondness, that he could feel it like a physical sensation in his chest.

He crouched, shook Donghyuck’s shoulder lightly. His smile went soft, as Donghyuck’s lashes slowly fluttered. His eyes opened, interspersed in a series of long, slow blinks.

“Mark?” he asked, his voice bleary.

“Were you trying to wait up for me?” Mark asked, sick with love. He hoped Donghyuck hadn’t gotten chilly, waiting for Mark in the cold hallway. He didn’t know how Donghyuck’s power would have affected that.

“Yeah,” Donghyuck’s eyes flickered warmly in the dark hallway, “That was a really long phone call.”

Mark opened his mouth, to explain the conversation he’d had with Doyoung and Taeyong. Closed his mouth, when he realized Donghyuck was seconds from sleep. That could wait for tomorrow. For now,

“Do you need help getting to bed?” Mark stood up, out of his crouch. He took Donghyuck’s hand and to provide support as he got up, slowly, stiffly.

“No,” Donghyuck yawned, barely managing to cover his mouth as he did, “Just open your door. Should be able to handle it from there.”

Mark paused, his hand stiffening in Donghyuck’s. He realized, too late, that he didn’t have to be holding Donghyuck’s hand anymore. He extricated his fingers from Donghyuck’s warm grasp, feeling the cold all the more potently when Donghyuck’s hand was no longer in his.

“Donghyuck…” he started.

“Oh my God,” Donghyuck sighed, “just let me fall asleep in your stupid arms, Mark.”

Mark was suddenly able to breathe easier. His smile returned to his face. He reached forward, opened the door to his room, for Donghyuck to go through.

Still, Mark wasn’t able to help the way his heart beat sped up, as he slipped under the soft covers of the foreign bed and Donghyuck slipped in after him. They lay facing each other, two parentheses. Mark kept waiting for Donghyuck’s blinks to grow longer, more frequent. He kept waiting for him to sleep so Mark could still his racing heart.

But, just his luck, Donghyuck seemed to have woken up. Though his gaze was cast down, his eyes remained open. He reached forward, under the covers. When he grasped Mark’s hand, Mark started, let out a stifled gasp. Donghyuck’s eyes flicked up to his face for a moment, before he drew Mark’s hand up and out from beneath the covers.

Mark tried to regulate his breathing, keep it even and low, as Donghyuck played with his hand, tracing its silhouette. The tip of his index finger kept dipping into the valleys between Mark’s knuckles, the spots where the claws came out. Mark tried not to flinch, as much as he wanted to drag his hand away.

“You’re weird about your hands, aren’t you?” Donghyuck spoke, into the silence of the night, and Mark’s breath hitched to hear him so eerily pinpoint it. Mark closed his eyes, briefly. He opened them again, to find Donghyuck looking at him. No, not at him. Through him.

“It’s not that,” Mark swallowed. And it was only because it was completely dark in the room, the only light within it the light of the moon and stars outside, that Mark was able to speak honestly, “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. You don’t have to pretend to be alright with them, you know? I get that they’re scary. It won’t bother me if you don’t want to hold my hand, or anything.”

Well, the last part wasn’t so honest. He wanted to keep holding Donghyuck’s hand, more than anything. But he didn’t want Donghyuck to do it if it scared him, if he hated it.

“I’m not pretending,” Donghyuck said, simply, soft.

Mark sighed.

“I’m not,” Donghyuck insisted, in that same soft voice, “When have I ever acted scared of them?”

Mark blinked, realizing. From the very start, from the moment Donghyuck had seen his claws, he hadn’t been afraid. He’d reached for them, traced them with his finger in the bathroom where they’d first met. He’d laid his hands over Mark’s, trusting Mark to be able to hold them back even before Mark could trust himself.

Donghyuck hummed, his lips curled up into a small smile. Before Mark knew it, Donghyuck was lifting his hand higher up, right in between their faces. Mark’s heart skipped a beat as Donghyuck leaned in, and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. Then another. Then a third. Three kisses, soft and gentle. Three kisses, for each of his claws.

“Stupid,” Donghyuck murmured. As he spoke, his lips brushed up against the sensitive skin. Though he was burning hot, the contact sent Mark shivering, “I love you. Every part of you. Claws included.”

Mark’s heart was thumping in his chest. He breathed in shakily. Then, he drew his hand out of Donghyuck’s grasp so he could intertwine their fingers. He pull their intertwined hands down, under the covers, out of the way. So he could lean in, and kiss Donghyuck properly.

He pulled back, after a moment.

“Have I told you how grateful I am that you’re in my life, Donghyuck?” he asked, a whisper.

“Yeah,” Donghyuck smiled, “A few times, I think.”

“Good,” Mark smiled back, as he leaned in close again, “I love you. Thank you.”

He pressed his lips to Donghyuck’s only for Donghyuck to draw back a moment later.

“What are you thanking me for this time?” Donghyuck sounded amused.

“For letting me get close to you,” Mark could’ve said anything in the world. He could’ve said everything, and be telling the truth. But, in that moment, that was the part of Donghyuck that he was most thankful for, “For giving me a chance, even though you had every reason not to.”

“Dork,” Donghyuck said, as warm and tender as if he was confessing all over again.

“Sunshine,” Mark responded, in the exact same tone. He angled in, and silenced the questioning sound that escaped from Donghyuck’s lips with a kiss.

✗

When he awoke the next morning, the ache in Mark’s chest and side had faded entirely. There was a heavy weight on his body, He felt warmed, through and through, and more comfortable than he usually felt upon waking. Mark inhaled, and smelled the familiar scent of a campfire, gone sweet. He smiled, as he opened his eyes.

Donghyuck had his head burrowed into Mark’s chest, his hand clenched into a fist at the hem of Mark’s shirt. Mark couldn’t see his face, but he could see the slow rise and fall of his shoulders. He could hear his soft, still slightly stuffy breathing.

Mark knew they ought to get moving soon. The sun was already rising, casting Donghyuck’s back in yellow and pink hues, making the untamed tufts sticking up out of his hair light up like rays. But he didn’t want to to wake Donghyuck. He didn’t want the moment to end. But they had to get to school.

“Donghyuck,” he whispered, his voice slightly rusty from sleep. He reached forward to jostle Donghyuck’s shoulder, gently, to rouse him.

Donghyuck mumbled something. Even if what he’d said had been intelligible enough for Mark to understand, it was muffled by Mark’s shirt. He burrowed his head deeper in Mark’s chest and Mark laughed, as soft as he could. Because that’s what the morning called for, something soft, delicate.

“Sunshine,” he shifted tactics, “You have to wake up. We can’t be late for school.”

Mark felt Donghyuck’s hand tighten in his shirt. Donghyuck pulled back, looked up at Mark. His eyes were just barely cracked open, his face slightly puffy and sleep softened. His lips were flushed and swollen, and Mark’s heart skipped a beat. He had to think it was because of him. The blushed light of the rising sun cast him in pale hues, making it look almost as if he was burning from within.

“You wanna know what the worst part about that name is?” Donghyuck asked, his words still slightly blurring together, his expression indiscernible. Mark felt something chilly lodge itself in his chest, despite how warmed he felt outside, with Donghyuck laying atop him.

Without waiting for a response, Donghyuck hummed and said, “I actually like it.”

Donghyuck’s lips curled up into a lazy smile, “Only you could could say a single word and make me feel like I’m filled with fucking butterflies.”

And the cold in Mark’s chest instantly abated, as Donghyuck shifted, rose up onto his knees. He reached forward. With both his hands, he cradled Mark’s face. Mark hurried to push himself up onto his elbows and meet Donghyuck halfway, as Donghyuck leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to Mark’s lips.

Mark blinked, as Donghyuck pulled back. He felt the corners of his lips tugging up into a smile to rival Donghyuck’s, wondering if he’d ever get used to that feeling. If he’d ever get used to knowing that Donghyuck loved him back.

Donghyuck let out a fond sigh then, still grinning, asked “So, do you think these rich creeps have anything decent we could eat for breakfast? Or are we just gonna have to pick up something on the way to school?”

Over a decadent breakfast spread prepared by Taeyong himself, Taeyong and Doyoung laid out the option of staying at the mansion for the rest of the freaks. Mutants. Mark was having trouble adjusting to that new term, mentally.

Mark eyed each of their faces for a reaction, carefully. He watched Donghyuck the closest of all. Though Mark believed staying in the mansion to be the best for all of them, he’d follow his friends without complaint, whichever path they chose.

Chenle was the first to speak up. He paused in the midst of sawing into the waffle Taeyong had slid onto his plate, piled high with strawberries and whipped cream

“I’m staying,” he said, cheerily and seemingly without a second thought. Then Chenle looked back down at his waffle and shovelled another bite into his mouth.

The rest of the group was more tentative. They were less ready to drop everything they’d had, their home for the last few years. They didn’t have the same reason for an aversion to Chenle’s townhouse as Chenle did.

“Can we trust them?” Jeno asked Chenle, outright.

After their offer of the mansion as a home, Taeyong and Doyoung had gone silent. They seemed to be holding their breath, the same as Mark.

“Mmph,” Chenle replied, his cheeks puffed out, stuffed. He chewed aggressively, his brows lowering with determination. The table waited, silent.

Chenle finally swallowed. He threw up a thumbs up with the same hand he held his fork in, “Yup! They actually care about us. Like, for real. It’s really nice? Also, Taeyong, these waffles are delicious! How’d you get them this puffy? Whenever I try to make waffles they end up really chewy…”

Taeyong blinked. His arms were crossed tight over his chest. Where his face had been unreadable, taut before, he softened. His shoulders lowered, and he smiled.

“If you’re following a recipe and not forgetting any ingredients, you might just be overmixing your batter,” he said, “I can try and show you what it should look like, at the end of prep,” Taeyong glanced back around the table, at the rest of the freaks, and amended his promise, “If we have time together in the future, that is.”

“If Chenle’s sticking around, I think I should too,” Renjun said, firmly.

Then, immediately following Renjun’s proclamation, Jaemin and Jeno spoke as one.

“Me too,” Jaemin blurted out.

Jeno leaned forward, “You guys really need to fix your wi-fi, but if Renjun’s staying, I’ll suffer.”

Jaemin and Jeno looked at each other, grudging smiles on their faces, as Renjun let out an aggrieved sigh. Renjun ducked his head, after, though not before Mark caught the bright blush of pink spreading across his cheeks.

Mark turned to look at Donghyuck. Mark felt warmth unspool within him, as he saw that Donghyuck was smiling, small and amused. His lips were still flushed from how late he’d ended up kissing Mark the night before.

Donghyuck glanced to Mark, one corner of his kiss-swollen lips lifting up higher than the other.

“What do you say, Puppy? A few extra miles isn’t gonna scare you off from dropping by on the weekends, right?”

“You really think a few miles is gonna stop me from coming to see you?” Mark grinned. Donghyuck’s smile widened, as his eyes turned to crescents.

Jaemin groaned. Mark was pretty sure he heard Renjun gag. Taeyong looked in curiosity from he to Donghyuck, a

nd Mark had no doubt that he’d fit the pieces together soon.

Doyoung, meanwhile, looked overwhelmed, faint. He seemed to be counting them, over and over, his eyes darting to each of them.

“So-- five? Just five of you are moving in, right?” he turned to Mark, “You’re not. So that leaves the rest of you.” Doyoung sighed, leaned forward to massage his temples with his fingers, “I was always terrified of becoming a father. I figured I’d just adopt a cat at the ripe old age of fifty. Maybe a dog, if I was willing to take on a bit more work. Five teenage boys. Good grief.”

Taeyong snorted, “Calm down. Johnny’s already agreed to stop by tomorrow and see what he can do to help. He’s bringing a friend too. I’ve never met the guy, but if Johnny’s vouching for him, I trust him to help.”

“Uh,” Donghyuck spoke up, “about that number…”

Though Donghyuck’s voice was quiet, his tone garnered the attention of everyone in the room. He sounded nervous, unsure.

“Say, for example, that Mark and I happen upon another mutant who needs help. Just… you know, for example,” Donghyuck cleared his throat, “Could I let them know about your offer of a safe haven for rejected mutants?”

“Of course,” Taeyong answered, immediately. His brows lifted as he looked on at Donghyuck, intrigued. Doyoung sighed, but he didn’t voice a disagreement.

“Just a hypothetical question,” Donghyuck blurted, voice high.

“Oh, of course,” Taeyong repeated, indulgent. His eyes were glinting, reflecting a curious golden sheen despite the dim lighting in the room.

Mark bit his tongue. But half an hour later, he turned to Donghyuck as they walked out together, with Taeyong’s permission to use his car to get to school, and an assortment of clothes from Taeyong’s and Doyoung’s closet on their backs.

“About this hypothetical mutant of yours...”

Donghyuck faced him, with eyes that flickered warmly above a soft, fond grin, “You remember that kid you ran into?”

“Jisung?” Mark smiled back, matching Donghyuck’s grin, “Yeah, he was nice. I hope he’s feeling better.”

“So, I’ve got a little theory about him--”

The drive from Doyoung and Taeyong’s estate in the rural area surrounding the city to North Side High took forty-five minutes, so Donghyuck had more than enough time to fill Mark in on his theory about Jisung on the way to school.

He figured that Jisung had some sort of weather-related ability, though he wasn’t quite sure on the scope of it. Donghyuck didn’t know if it was just rain and thunderstorms, or if Jisung could affect other sorts of weather related phenomena as well.

He’d actually said the words weather related phenomena, aloud. Mark had been tempted to pull over the car right then and there and kiss him. He’d had to settle for just shooting him a smile, in the end.

One thing Donghyuck was convinced of was that Jisung had barely any control over his powers.

“He’s like you, when we first started talking,” Donghyuck added. He was poking around in the glove box of Taeyong’s car. Mark felt a pang, as he remembered Donghyuck’s puppy band-aids. They were probably still locked away in his car, wherever his car was now.

“We should probably try to find him pretty fast then,” Mark mused, his brows drawing low.

“Agreed.”

The attack by the earthquake man on the city was all anyone could talk about at school. Most seemed to be dismissing it as some kind of coincidence. Some kind of maniac who could predict the path of earthquakes before they happened, or something. A few people joked about it being some evil villain who’d found a way to disrupt the earth with technology, someone that one of those Avengers really should’ve taken the time to stop by and defeat.

None of the rumors even got close to the truth: that the man was a mutant, someone who had the power to manipulate earth with his will alone.

Mark had to be grateful that Rocky had long scared off bystanders and news cameras by the time Mark and the rest of the freaks had arrived on-scene. The only footage aired of them and their standoff against Rocky was grainy, taken from high above in a shaky helicopter. None of their faces were recognizable, though some of their powers were.

Mark kept seeing screenshots of Donghyuck, just one big flare of flame in low definition. He kept seeing pixelated pictures of himself, his claws extended. The helicopters had even captured a few blurry seconds of footage of the rock spikes pushing into him, impaling him.

Mark swallowed, as he caught a glimpse of a gif of that moment being passed around from the student who sat in front of him to his friend right beside him. Mark hoped Donghyuck hadn’t seen those.

He glanced to Donghyuck, seated at his desk by Mark. Donghyuck was frowning. He was squinting at their classmates as Mark had been, with scrutinizing expression on his face.

He must’ve felt Mark’s eyes on him, because he turned.

“Hey, did you ever tell anyone else about your--?”

Donghyuck cut himself off, before curling his hand into a fist. Mark got the message. He felt his stomach drop, suddenly going cold.

“Yeah,” he breathed, “Lucas knows. You don’t think he...?”

Mark couldn’t even finish the sentence. Lucas was disgusted by him, clearly. Scared of him. But that was one thing. Entertaining the thought that Lucas might expose Mark, that he might report him to some news agency or, worse, some government arm was awful. Mark felt cold, like the temperature in the room had precipitously dropped to match the rainstorm outside.

“We need to talk to him,” Donghyuck said, firm. His determination was a welcome change from the uncertainty Mark was filled with. Donghyuck glanced towards the classroom window, “Jisung can wait.”

Mark felt sick. He’d been so, so naive to show his claws to Lucas. But at least, up until then, it had only backfired on him. Now he’d had to get all the freaks roped up in his past mistake. Even Jisung.

Their professor entered the classroom and began his lesson, but all Mark could do was stare at the back of Lucas’s head. His mind wandered, as he began to spin scenarios of what would happen if Lucas told someone his secret. Government labs, research facilities, prison. What sort of fate lay for a teenager with claws?

Mark felt a light touch brush up against his hand, saving him from imagining any further what-ifs. He looked. Donghyuck’s pinkie finger was pressed up against Mark’s own, atop the sheet of loose paper he’d had to use for notes.

Mark turned to face Donghyuck, question ready on his tongue. But Donghyuck answered it before he could open his mouth. He slipped his hand into Mark’s and swung it down, so their intertwined hands dropped between their desks. Mark felt a surge of affection towards him, a bright, warm sensation that he was slowly getting used to feeling.

‘Thank you, ’ he mouthed, too afraid to speak up and risk having anyone glance their way. Donghyuck’s hand was warm and comforting, a tether to keep his thoughts from going down too dark a path. He didn’t want to have to let it go.

Donghyuck crinkled up his nose, a smile briefly alighting his tense face.

He mouthed something back, something short. Mark could barely guess what it was, but he had the feeling Donghyuck had once again called him a dork. Mark had to smile back.

Mark didn’t know what to feel, an hour later. Donghyuck had snatched Lucas the moment class had ended, hissed at him to follow. Somehow, they’d all ended up outside under an awning, the rain pounding and thunder roiling overhead.

Mark was watching the boy he loved glare daggers at his visibly freaked out ex. He was pretty sure the awning above them had a leak somewhere, because he felt a constant drip of water droplets falling onto the back of his neck and trickling down his spine. And, oh, he’d also been dead yesterday. That kept coming back to him.

Mark cleared his throat.

“So, Lucas,” Lucas turned to look at him, his eyes wide as saucers. Mark faltered, “I, uh. How have you been lately? How was prom?”

Lucas blinked.

“I’ve been… fine. Prom was fine. Yeri and I...” Lucas looked away, at something far off, something obscured from view by the heavy sheets of rain pelting the area, “It was a close call but we won.”

Still with the prom king thing. Well, Mark supposed he’d asked.

“Good,” he said, strained, “That’s great. Congratulations.”

“Not that this conversation isn’t incredibly riveting but, Mark, come on,” Donghyuck caught Mark’s eye, jerked his head towards Lucas, “We’re here for a reason.”

“Right,” Mark said, weak. No more delaying.

“Lucas, could you please, uh,” he tried to think of a way to phrase it, “not tell anyone what I showed you? You know... my claws?”

Lucas made a choked off sound, the moment Mark had said the word claws. At this point, it hardly poked at the ache in Mark’s chest at all. Instead of wincing, he straightened, set his shoulders, and continued to look Lucas in the eye.

Lucas broke eye contact first, as expected. A moment of strained silence passed.

Then, unexpectedly, Lucas sighed. His gaze dropped low, to the cement beneath their feet, darkened by the rain.

“Mark,” Lucas said, and Mark’s name sounded the way he used to say it, just for a moment, just that once, “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Mark felt a sudden chill, growing from within. That had been almost the last thing he’d expected to come out from Lucas’s mouth.

“You wouldn’t?” Mark asked, uneasy.

“He’s scared, Mark,” Donghyuck cut in. His lip curled as he glared up at Lucas, his eyes blazing, “He’s just saying whatever he thinks is gonna save his ass.”

Mark didn’t want Donghyuck to be right, but that made an awful amount of sense. He kept feeling colder, and colder. The rains kept pouring, the slight breeze wafting by hitting his damp skin and sending goosebumps across it.

“Screw you,” Lucas snapped, his voice the firmest Mark had heard it since the moment he’d shown him his claws.

Mark bristled. He knew his future depended on Lucas’s willingness to keep his secret, but, fuck, if he didn’t have the worst impulse control.

“Don’t talk to him like that,” Mark said, his voice colder, reflecting the chill that had pervaded him.

Lucas’s mouth dropped open, and Mark continued, “Is he right, Lucas? Are you just saying that because you think we’re going to hurt you, or something?”

Lucas glanced from Mark to Donghyuck, and back again. He didn’t answer, not right away, and the cold ache in Mark’s chest grew colder still.

“We’re not going to hurt you,” Mark said. He turned to Donghyuck, “Right?”

Donghyuck held Mark’s gaze for a moment, before sighing, and smiling.

“Right.”

“Look, I’m not scared,” Lucas cut in, his voice exasperated, “I know you’re not going to hurt me. I know you’re a good guy, Mark. That’s why I’m gonna keep your secret. I just want to know how long this has been going on.”

Lucas gestured from Mark to Donghyuck. And Mark caught on, and froze, speechless.

Maybe Mark had misjudged Lucas, he thought. It seemed that, despite his aversion to Mark’s claws, he still remembered who Mark was. It seemed there was a part of Lucas that didn’t exactly want Mark to be sent off to be experimented on or jailed either.

“Uh, since yesterday?” Mark looked to Donghyuck for confirmation. Donghyuck shrugged.

“Yeah. We’re coming up on twelve hours since our first kiss, I think.”

Mark had to smile at the specifics Donghyuck was able to recall about their confession and first kiss.

“Really? It’s been twelve hours?”

Donghyuck smiled back, though it was a little self conscious, not as bright as it could be. So Mark grinned, and said what he could to make it brighter, “I can’t believe you remember that. That’s amazing.”

Donghyuck’s grin brightened in answer. Mark only got to bask in it for a moment before the sound a throat clearing brought him back down to earth.

“Well. Congratulations, I guess,” Lucas injected. He didn’t look bitter, or angry. He just looked strained, awkward.

“Thanks,” Mark said, weak, wondering how he’d almost forgotten Lucas was there.

Then Donghyuck said, “Alright, Bigfoot, you can go now. We’re done here,” with that same beaming, bright grin, and Mark remembered why he’d forgotten.

“Bigfoot?” Lucas repeated, disbelieving. He shook his head, “You know what? Whatever. See you guys around.”

“See you around, Lucas,” Mark said, to his retreating back, as Lucas walked back to the school building, “Thanks for keeping my secret!”

Lucas didn’t answer. He didn’t turn around. But he lifted his hand in a wave, a slight movement, but acknowledgment all the same. The school doors clanged shut behind him, leaving only the sound of rainfall in the silence that followed. Mark turned to Donghyuck, still smiling.

“What do you say we try and find Jisung before the period’s out?”

They couldn’t find Jisung that period, nor that day. Donghyuck shrugged, said they’d just have to try again tomorrow. It shouldn’t be too hard to find a too-tall blond freshman. They knew he was on campus, from the rain and the storms that seemed to abate the moment the school busses pulled out from the parking lot.

Yet they couldn't find him the next day, nor the day after. Mark had had time to retrieve his car from the impound lot. He and Donghyuck had detention, as per usual. And Mark still drove him home after every detention. The only difference was that Donghyuck’s home was now a mansion located in the country, and that Mark often stuck around ‘til long after nightfall.

He’d listen to Doyoung’s diatribes about genetics, which were actually kind of interesting now that he’d learned he was a mutant. He’d watch Taeyong as he sat with a giant man of metal, as they both plucked the strings of their guitars and improvised a tune together. The giant metal man, Mark learned, was Johnny. Mark watched a short man who had showed up at Johnny’s side and went by the name of Ten phase through walls. Ten was lending a hand in Jaemin’s ambitious undertaking of reviving the mansion’s decrepit garden. Mark hid his laughter, as Jeno and Doyoung bonded over the notes they’d taken, and excitedly compared their research on mutants.

The best moments in the mansion, though, were like the rest of the best moments in Mark’s life. They were the times he spent with Donghyuck. They’d rope the older guys into helping them train. They’d hide out under brambles in the garden as day turned to dusk, making plans that devolved into talking about each other that devolved into kissing, until Renjun spotted them from up above and Jaemin shooed them away. They found an ancient record player while helping Doyoung tidy up the guest rooms in the east wing. And they spent hours, trying to find just one song on one album that Donghyuck didn’t know the chorus to.

Days passed, and they got lulled into complacency. The rainstorms persisted, and they made sure to search in their free and lunch periods and before and after school, but they still couldn’t find Jisung.

Friday was different, though.

Mark’s replacement phone started buzzing in his cup holder when he was still ten minutes out from school. He took one glance at the screen, saw the yellow of the sun emoticon he’d added after Donghyuck’s name and picked up the phone, shifting his hand on the wheel.

Smiling, he picked up the call, “Hey, Sun--.”

“I’m at school and there’s a fucking hurricane,” Donghyuck sounded breathless, thought his voice was barely audible through the pour of rain and howl of wind. Mark’s heart stopped. Donghyuck tacked on a fond, “Also good morning, I guess. Dork.”

“Morning,” Mark repeated, faint, scanning the clear horizon for signs of bad weather, “A hurricane? Donghyuck, are you sure?”

“Look, I don’t fucking know. I’ve never been to the coast in my life. All I know is there’s a lot of wind and a lot of rain and they’re evacuating the school.”

Mark turned a corner and crested a hill and, suddenly, their school was in sight. Mark’s breath caught in his throat-- the entire sky above it was pewter gray. Clouds dark enough to turn the day to night loomed overhead. He drove headfirst into a sudden sheet of rainfall that battered his car’s windshield, the raindrops big and heavy enough to crash against his car with the force of something solid.

“Jesus,” Mark exhaled.

He put Donghyuck on speaker and dropped his phone onto his dash so he could use both hands to navigate around the massive puddles surrounding their school. There were fallen tree branches he had to dart around, a stop sign wholly uprooted and strewn across the grass. Mark could feel his car trying to drift, trying to follow the force of the wind pushing it aside. He held fast to the wheel.

“I’ll meet you at the side entrance closest to the student lot,” Donghyuck said then, quieter, faint enough that Mark hardly picked it up over the pounding of the rain overhead, “Be careful out there, Mark.”

“You know me,” Mark said, wry, as he pulled up into the almost completely vacant student lot. He unbuckled, took Donghyuck off speaker, and steeled his nerves before stepping out of his car and directly into the hurricane.

The water was freezing cold. Immediately, within seconds of stepping out, Mark was soaked to the bone. His teeth chattered as he started to sprint through the rain to the school building.

“I do, unfortunately. God, you’re frustrating, ” Donghyuck’s sigh crackled in Mark’s ear, where he’d pressed his phone tight so he could hear over the roaring hurricane.

Mark had to smile, as he picked up the faint yellow lights of the school entrance through the thick gray sheets of rain. He raced towards them, not even bothering to dodge puddles. His shoes and socks were already drenched.

“Yeah,” he said, raising his voice to be heard over the wind, “But you love me anyways.”

Mark reached for the door handle. He pulled it open at the exact moment to hear Donghyuck’s next words spoken in double, both in person and over the phone.

“--I do, unfortunately.”

Donghyuck looked up at Mark, from where he was leaning against some lockers by the door. His lips were still twisted up, the beginnings of a soft smile brightening his features, warming his gaze.

“Hey,” Mark greeted, with a grin. He lowered his phone from his ear, “You look nice.”

He didn’t know why he’d said that. Donghyuck wasn’t wearing anything different from his usual dark colored hoodie and dark colored jeans combo. He looked nice, but he always did. Mark supposed the sole difference was that he was allowed to tell Donghyuck now. He had permission to say it, and he’d always take advantage of that, whenever he could.

“Thanks,” Donghyuck said, his smile growing, his cheeks coloring, “You look freezing.”

“It’s a bit nasty out,” Mark admitted, slipping his phone into his pocket.

Donghyuck snorted. He pushed off the lockers and slipped his own phone into his hoodie pocket. A moment later, he was at Mark’s side, lifting up Mark’s arm and ducking under it, slinging it over his shoulders.

Mark froze, as Donghyuck tucked himself into Mark’s side, snaking his arm around him, clutching a fistful of the hem of Mark’s shirt. Donghyuck was dry and warm. He smelled of smoke and rainfall and a bit like the rich, ancient woody smell of the mansion. Just having him at Mark’s side was enough to stop Mark’s teeth from chattering any longer.

“Come on,” Donghyuck tugged on Mark’s shirt hem, averting his eyes, looking ahead, “We should go. We have a weather-controlling underclassman to find.”

The halls were completely abandoned. The fluorescent lights flickered overhead as the wind howled and thunder crashed intermittently outside. Donghyuck grew more and more anxious, as minutes passed and they ducked their heads into more and more classrooms and labs without sighting Jisung.

He ducked out from under Mark’s arm, grabbed his hand instead, and tugged him. They’d nearly reached a full out jog, when they turned a corner and saw it. Donghyuck was first, and froze first. Mark nearly ran into him. He apologized, then cutting off his own apology as he saw what had made Donghyuck stop.

A cloudy haze concealing the hallway’s ceiling, thick and gray and choking off the lights overhead. Water droplets fell from the haze, constant streams pouring down, flooding the hallway. Donghyuck started. His grip on Mark’s hand tightened to a vice as a bright flash lit the cloud bright white, and the barest moment later a thunder crash followed.

Somehow, Jisung had brought the storm indoors. Mark glanced at Donghyuck. His heart clenched to see Donghyuck’s eyes, wide, dark, and strained at the corners.

Mark squeezed his hand, comforting. When Donghyuck tore his gaze from the storm cloud to look at Mark, Mark tried to smile.

“Hey, look on the bright side. This probably means we’re on the right track and he’s close by.”

“Right,” Donghyuck replied. A small, tight smile crossed his face for a brief moment before it disappeared again. “We just gotta… walk through that thing.”

“Exactly.”

Lightning flashed again, lighting up the cloud. Donghyuck’s shoulders jumped, and Mark pulled him close.

As thunder crashed overhead, loud enough it felt his bones were rattling, Mark pressed his lips to Donghyuck’s. Donghyuck melted against him, the tension bleeding from his frame. His grip on Mark’s hand loosened as their lips slotted together.

Donghyuck sighed against Mark’s lips and, after a moment, Mark pulled back. The smile on his face had gone wide, genuine.

“If it makes you feel any better, lightning usually strikes the tallest thing around. If anyone’s getting hit, it’s gonna be me,” Mark said.

His heart was beating wildly in his chest, but it wasn’t for fear of lightning strikes or thunder fall. It raced for the still thrilling feeling of kissing Donghyuck, of getting kissed back.

“Idiot. You’re, like, a centimeter taller than me,” Donghyuck hissed, lightly shoving Mark’s shoulder. But his eyes were crackling again, burning low and warm. Mark’s kiss had worked.

They crept into the hallway, darting around, glancing in classroom windows and even the janitor’s closet. They searched for a head of blond hair, a too tall figure, as the rain fell and soaked them all, the both of them, to the bone.

Mark’s eyes landed on the men’s room at the end of the hall. He hesitated, as he felt rain pour down the back of his shirt, trickle down his neck. The only thing preventing him from shivering was Donghyuck’s overwarm hand in his.

The hallway lit up bright white with the telltale sign of lightning. Mark instinctively raced into the room, tugging Donghyuck with him. Donghyuck made a sound of protest as Mark closed the bathroom door shut behind them. Not a moment later, thunder crashed outside.

Mark turned around, only to find that they weren’t the only ones who’d sought refuge in the bathroom. There was a small figure, curled up on the tile against the far wall. His blond head was hanging, and his arms were wrapped over his head in a shield. Mark became uncomfortably aware of the soft, unmistakable sounds of crying. He could see the boy’s shoulders shaking, heaving with every wracked sob.

At Mark’s side, Donghyuck’s breath caught in his throat. Almost a gasp, but stifled.

“...Jisung?” Mark asked, raising his voice to be heard over the wind blowing outside, and the rain lashing at the bathroom door.

Achingly slow, the blond haired boy raised his head from underneath his hands. Jisung looked up at Mark and Donghyuck in confusion. His eyes were puffy and rimmed with red. his cheeks were blotched pink.

“Mark?” Jisung asked, his voice stuffy, “Donghyuck? What are you two doing here?”

Mark shared a glance with Donghyuck. He didn’t know if he was imagining it, but the sound of rain seemed lighter already. Donghyuck shrugged, still looking lost and wild eyed from the thunderstorm they’d gone through.

Mark turned back to Jisung. He felt a pang in his heart, at how small Jisung had managed to make himself, at how scared he looked. Mark knew, with as much conviction as anything, that Jisung had no intention of creating that hurricane. Jisung was just as afraid as everyone else, perhaps even more so. He had no idea what was happening.

“I think the better question is: what are you doing here?” Mark asked. He drew forward towards Jisung, slowly. It wasn’t too long ago that he was just like Jisung. Lost, confused, dealing with an upended world with only strangers to turn to. Donghyuck had been there for Mark when he’d been in that situation. Now, it was Mark’s turn to do the same.

“Why are you hiding out in a bathroom, all alone?” Mark asked, soft, as he knelt down by Jisung so he could look at him at eye level.

“The rain... the storms...,” Jisung closed his eyes. The momentary confusion fled his face, was replaced by tense anxiety, “They keep following me. I just want them to leave. I just want them gone.”

Mark glanced back at Donghyuck, over his shoulder. Donghyuck was still frozen, staring at the two of them. He looked discomfited, uneasy. Mark wondered if they ought to tell Jisung that the rain and the storms were his. They were his to control, and his to dissipate. Only he had the power to make them leave.

In the end, Mark decided against telling Jisung all of that. He’d tell him some, and save the rest for later, when he was calmer. He didn’t want to distress him anymore than he already was.

Mark reached out, and laid a hand on Jisung’s shoulder. He couldn’t push positive emotions onto him like he could for Chenle, but hopefully it would be enough to remind him that he wasn’t alone.

“Jisung,” Mark started, “The storms are following you because you’re special. They’re yours.”

Jisung raised his eyes to Mark and blinked, before twisting his lips down and saying, in a sore voice.

“I don’t want them! I don’t want to be special-- I just want to be normal!”

As Jisung choked out the word normal, thunder crashed outside, in the hall and in hurricane beyond the bathroom’s small window. The wind howled louder and louder, insistent, almost angry.

“Being normal sucks,” Donghyuck spoke, quietly.

Mark watched Jisung’s eyes raise from him. He saw them widen comically, his mouth dropping open. Mark’s nostrils were filled with the familiar scent of flames. He heard a slight crackling sound, as Donghyuck ignited his fire.

Mark turned. Donghyuck had his hand raised. A small ball of spun flames spun lazily above his palm, rotating. His fire shone in the dim bathroom, its orange light illuminating Donghyuck’s face, setting his features in sharp relief.

Donghyuck advanced towards them slowly. Mark head Jisung’s gasp, and had to smile. He put himself in Jisung’s shoes, imagined that he was seeing Donghyuck’s flames for the first time. Jisung was discovering that he wasn’t alone in the world, that he wasn’t the only freak out there. It was too easy for Mark to cast himself back to when he’d been in that position, not so long ago.

Donghyuck knelt by Mark. The little ball of fire in his hand was warm up close. It was miniscule, just the size of a baseball, but it still fought back the chill from the surrounding storm, making Mark feel as warm as if he was sitting in front of a campfire on a cold night.

“Jisung, you’re not normal. You’re not like the rest of the fucking pricks at this school. You’re better than them,” Donghyuck spoke, and sounded completely sure.

Mark felt the warmth of fond feelings grow within him to match how sun-baked he felt on the outside. He watched Donghyuck speak, all his fear from the thunderstorm and hurricane gone, without a trace. Jisung’s eyes moved from Donghyuck’s miniature sun to Donghyuck’s face. He looked completely stunned, speechless. Mark could understand. It was a lot to take in.

“And you’re not alone,” Donghyuck finished, hefting his hand higher. He glanced sideways at Mark. Before he’d even spoken, Mark felt his heart skip a beat, realizing what he was thinking.

“Show him, Mark.”

A grin broke out across Mark’s face. He beamed at Donghyuck, and turned back to Jisung.

“Don’t freak out when you see these, alright? They’re kinda scary at first, but I promise I’m gonna be extra careful with them.”

Mark waited for Jisung’s confounded nod. He curled his hand into a fist and extended out his claws to their full length. He watched Jisung, as Jisung watched his claws. A beat passed, a silent moment, then Jisung looked past his claws. He looked at Mark’s face, through the gaps in them. He smiled, small but sure.

“You’re the Wolverine?” he asked.

It took Mark a moment to place the name. When he did, he huffed a laugh, and nodded.

“Yeah. I guess I am. My claws aren’t normal, but they let me help people. Without them, without the rest of everything that makes me weird, I couldn’t save lives,” Mark sheathed his claws, automatically swiping the blood left behind off on his soaked jeans. He turned his smile back to Donghyuck, “The same goes for Donghyuck, and the rest of our friends.”

Donghyuck had a matching smile on his face. It was near impossible to see, with the dim light and the orange cast on his face, but Mark could tell that Donghyuck was flushed. He knew what Donghyuck’s blush looked like well enough. Donghyuck closed his hand. He extinguished the small sphere of fire, but not before mouthing a distinct ‘Dork ’ at Mark.

“Your friends… there are more people like us?” Jisung asked, faint. He stumbled a bit over the last couple words.

“Oh, yeah. A shit ton,” Donghyuck nodded, his grin going lopsided.

Mark stood up, offered a hand to Donghyuck. After he’d helped Donghyuck up, he reached out and extended his hand to Jisung.

“Wanna meet them?”

Jisung hesitated, staring at Mark’s hand. For a moment, it was quiet. The only sound in the bathroom was the light echo of the drizzle of rain outside. Then, Jisung took Mark’s hand. In the blink of an eye, from one moment to the next, the room was brighter. The clouds outside the bathroom window shifted lighter, going nearly white.

“Yeah,” Jisung said, “I-I think I do.”

The ride back to the mansion wasn’t as harrowing as Mark feared it might be, when he drove out from the student lot only to notice the small cloud firmly fixed above the roof of his car.

Donghyuck sat with Jisung in the back seat. Every time Jisung so much as sniffled, or wiped surreptitiously at the corner of his eye, Donghyuck made frantic, panicked eye contact with Mark in the rearview mirror.

‘Comfort him’ Mark mouthed, trying not to smile too widely. He didn’t want Donghyuck to think he was laughing at him. Rather than laughing, he was just feeling particularly fond. Donghyuck knew he ought to do something for Jisung, but he hadn’t the faintest idea where to start.

Donghyuck nodded with a grim expression on his face. Awkwardly, he reached across the middle seat and patted Jisung’s shoulder.

“There, there,” he said, stilted, unnatural.

At the start of the ride, Jisung had confided in them the reason behind the hurricane. He’d shared why his emotions were even more mixed up than usual, and the storms were even further outside of his control.

Apparently, the night before, lightning had struck an old oak by Jisung’s house, causing a massive branch to break off and crash into the roof. That had been the last straw for Jisung’s parents. His father had dropped him off at school with an ultimatum: figure out how to get rid of the storms today, or don’t bother coming back at all.

Mark had seethed, as Jisung recounted his story, interspersed with moments of sniffling that were rapidly followed by apologies. He couldn’t fathom abandoning your child at their lowest point, when they needed you most.

“Parents suck,” Donghyuck continued, still clapping Jisung on the shoulder, “They’re just the worst.”

“I guess…” Jisung agreed, hesitant. He sounded too confused to be distraught. Mark glanced in the mirror, and saw that Jisung was staring at Donghyuck’s hand on his shoulder.

Mark considered that to be a victory. He caught Donghyuck’s eye, offered a subtle thumbs up. He felt that swooping feeling in his stomach when Donghyuck returned the smile, weak, but relieved.

Mark called to give Doyoung a heads up, as they walked up the long path to the mansion. On Mark’s first day, the path had been overgrown, tree branches hanging low over the cobblestones. Johnny and Jeno had worked together to clear it, in the meantime. Sun shone through, bouncing off the dusty path, as a diminished, light cover of clouds followed them to the mansion entrance.

“So Donghyuck wasn’t just speaking hypothetically about that mutant, then?” Doyoung asked, with a sigh.

“Nope,” Mark said, with trepidation.

He didn’t think Doyoung would be too upset about adding another boy to the mansion. It was the the idea of broaching the topic with Jisung himself, so soon after his parents abandoned him, that worried Mark. He hoped Jisung would at least stay a few nights, especially since he had nowhere to go.

“Well I guess there’s only one thing to do,” Doyoung sighed.

Mark felt his heart skip a beat, as he glanced over at Jisung. He wasn’t crying anymore, but he looked nervous as anything. His eyes kept darting up to the clouds above his head, as if he feared another thunderstorm would break out again at any moment.

“I’ll let the rest of the boys know they should try and make him feel welcome, ” Doyoung finished, resigned.

“Thanks, Doyoung,” Mark said, relieved. That was the least they could do for Jisung, in his eyes.

Mark was thankful when they entered the mansion and it wasn’t teeming with activity. He supposed most of the guys were still asleep. If Renjun and Jaemin were awake, they’d be in the garden. Taeyong was likely holed up in his room, reaching out to his seemingly endless circle of mutant friends. There was no way Jeno was awake, nor Johnny or Ten. Chenle was probably puttering about, exploring the mansion’s rooms.

“This is your home?” Jisung asked, his face turned to the towering ceiling of the mansion’s entrance hall. The clouds had followed them indoors. Their haze obscured the ceiling, covering the chandelier, making its height seem endless.

“Yeah. It’s pretty sick, right?” Donghyuck said. Mark detected a note of something special in his voice. Pride, maybe.

“Do you want a tour?” Mark asked, smiling. Jisung immediately turned his eager face to Mark, and nodded.

Mark and Donghyuck led Jisung first to the library. It was warmly lit and seemed to gleam more than it had when Mark had first seen it. He suspected that Taeyong had gone through and dusted every bookshelf, from the way the spines stood out amongst the wooden shelves, their colors more saturated, more warm.

“Whoa,” Jisung exhaled, running his finger over the spine of a massive tome that Mark suspected was probably older than all of them combined, “this is crazy. It’s just like Beauty and the Beast.”

“That’s… one way to put it,” Donghyuck intoned, perplexed.

He shifted where he was standing, edging closer to Mark. Mark, too, realized he’d absentmindedly angled himself closer to Donghyuck. He felt like shaking his head. He couldn’t help it. It was like no matter where he was or what he was doing, he was drawn to Donghyuck, and Donghyuck to him. Like some sort of gravitation, like magnetism.

Before he could do something stupid and out of place like kissing Donghyuck right in front of Jisung, Mark cleared his throat.

“Want to see the rest of the place?”

They showed Jisung the garden, next. There, Jisung left his clouds behind. They drifted high up, to the glass above, as Donghyuck waved them away. Within moments, they were dissipated by the morning sun.

Then they showed him to the guest wing. Which, Mark confessed, couldn’t even really be called the guest wing any longer, not when all five boys who lived there were permanent fixtures. Finally, they wrapped up the tour, ending in the kitchen.

“It’s huge,” Donghyuck spread his arms, “Like, there’s three ovens. Three! I don’t think Mark’s even used an oven three times in his whole life.”

Mark grinned. He suspected Donghyuck’s aim at this point was just to astound Jisung as much as possible. It seemed to be working, going by Jisung’s face. His lips seemed to be stuck parted in surprise.

“Whoa,” Jisung exhaled.

Mark pushed open the kitchen doors, only to burst out into laughter at the sight that lay beyond them. Chenle, struggling to juggle a tray and to push in a door of one of the aforementioned three ovens, something beige splattered across his purple hair.

Mark heard Jisung make a sound that sounded oddly like a wheeze. He didn’t dwell on it, rushing forward to get the door for Chenle. Donghyuck was at his heels, and was soon helping Chenle handle the hot tray.

After Mark and Donghyuck had helped Chenle sort out his baking fiasco, Chenle thanked them. He drew off the pair of oven mitts he had on his hands.

“Thanks, guys!” Chenle said, grateful. He looked down at the cookies on the tray, which looked far underdone, more dough than cookie, “Oh, darn. I think Taeyong might have said that the cook time was fourteen minutes and not four, after all.”

“That’s fine! You can always try again, now that you know,” Mark assured him, as Donghyuck came in with, “I’ll still eat ‘em. Salmonella doesn’t scare me.”

“Thanks, guys,” Chenle repeated. He rolled his eyes, but he had a fond grin on his face. Chenle nodded towards the direction of the kitchen door, “Who’s he?”

“Oh,” Mark blinked, having momentarily forgotten their reason for not being at school, for ending up in the mansion’s kitchen in the first place. He looked at Jisung, who seemed, for all intents and purposes, to be frozen in place.

“That’s Jisung,” Donghyuck said, “he’s a mutant.”

Donghyuck opened his mouth, then seemed to think better of it, and closed it. He glanced at Mark. Mark nodded. The simplest explanation seemed best.

“Hi, Jisung,” Chenle greeted, warmly. He drew around the massive island in the center of the kitchen. He leaned against it, once he’d gotten to the side Jisung was on.

“What are your powers? I’m empathic.”

“I can... storm,” Jisung’s fingers twitched at his side.

“Empathic?” Jisung repeated, weak. Fascinatingly, his cheeks seemed to be coloring, going pink. Mark shared a curious glance with Donghyuck, who grinned at him, and pointedly looked back at Jisung and Chenle.

Chenle leaned a touch towards Jisung. A mischievous grin spread across his face as he offered an explanation.

“It’s sorta like I can read minds.”

“Oh no,” Jisung gasped, making Mark even more curious.

“Don’t worry,” Chenle giggled, drawing back, away from Jisung, “Your emotions are really cute! I’m glad you’re finally feeling like you’ve found a place where you belong and, well, I’m glad you seem to like me!”

“Oh no,” Jisung repeated, his voice high.

Mark blinked, uncomprehending, as Donghyuck hissed a “Holy shit, no way,” under his breath. Mark resolved to ask Donghyuck what had just happened later, after they’d introduced Jisung to the rest of the guys and extended the offer of a place to come home to.

No sooner had Taeyong told Jisung that he could stay at the mansion, if he liked, than Jisung jumped at the chance to accept his offer. Jisung moved into the mansion that day, bringing nothing with him but the clothes on his back and his school backpack.

Taeyong and Doyoung put their feet down, though, and refused to let Jisung participate in the same training as the older boys. He worked on his emotional control with Chenle, while the rest of them made use of a free room in the mansion’s basement and honed their abilities for use in a fight, or defense, or working to save civilians.

Doyoung nagged Mark and Donghyuck until they agreed to cut down on the time they spent patrolling the city together. He begged them to focus on their schoolwork, at least until they graduated in a few weeks’ time. Mark and Donghyuck agreed, conditionally.

And so, a week before graduation, in the lull between the stress of final exams and projects and the start of summer activities, Doyoung and Taeyong showed up to Mark’s parents’ house.

Doyoung was wearing his most grandfatherly cardigan, and Taeyong seemed to have transformed himself into an actual grandpa, complete with a smart outfit and carefully styled white hair. Mark’s mother sat attentively, as Doyoung and Taeyong explained that Mark had earned an exclusive scholarship to a newly established private university located just an hour away. Not only that, but Mark had gotten an offer to attend their pre-college prep camp, one that would last the summer.

“We believe that Mark will come to see our school as a home away from home,” Taeyong concluded, “Our student body is rather… unique, but we think a uniquely talented kid like Mark will fit right in.”

Mark’s parents were ecstatic to hear it. Mark’s final grades had been abysmal, particularly in science class. Mark felt bad for deceiving them, for letting them believe he was doing what the rest of his classmates were doing. Going to college, getting a degree, finding a nine-to-five job to spend his days at until his retirement.

But that guilt only pushed him harder in training. He’d make it worth it. He’d save lives, with his friends at his side. He’d contribute, better than he ever could with a simple degree. And he could be himself. Mark could put his powers, his mutations, to their best use by being a hero, by fighting crime alongside his friends.

✗

Mark’s thoughts strayed, as he and Donghyuck threw their graduation caps up in the air with the rest of their class. He thought of the uniform prototypes that Ten was working on, back at the mansion. How much better those would fit than any graduation gown.

✗

Often, after a long sparring session, or a seemingly endless lesson on genetics or physics from Doyoung, Mark and Donghyuck would trudge upstairs together. They always seemed to end up out in the garden. Jaemin had nearly completed the restorations, and every one of the summer blossoms was in full bloom, turned up to face the sun’s rays.

When the light of the setting sun hit just right through the garden’s glass dome, it turned all of the flowers, all of the ivies and grass different shades of yellow, orange, and crimson.

Mark and Donghyuck would find a patch of grass to lay out in, some shaded area under a newly planted tree, where the air smelled sweet like blossoms and fresh like newly tilled earth.

They’d lay out under the guise of watching the sun set and resting. But, more often than not, Mark would find himself watching Donghyuck rather than the sun. He found comfort in the lines of his face, the slope of his nose, the dark fan of his eyelashes against his cheeks as he blinked, or the shape of his lips as he caught Mark staring and smiled, soft.

They talked of their past some. But, more importantly, they talked of their future. Of their path, both as part of a team and as a pair.

Donghyuck was still working on his hero name. The kids had convinced Mark to take on Wolverine, and the local paper and the sites luckily seemed to have agreed on that. But Donghyuck was still a mystery. The sites called him Pyro, or Toro. Donghyuck let them. He liked the idea of a name that had something to do with the the sun, but he wouldn’t give up Sunshine. That was for Mark, he said, and Mark alone. Mark was more than alright with that.

He’d roll over, and kiss the name from Donghyuck’s lips. It was fitting, he thought. Donghyuck burned so hot. He tasted of summer, of sunshine, himself.

As the sun dipped below the horizon line and the sky shifted to purple and blue hues, Donghyuck pressed searing kisses to Mark’s lips, to Mark’s neck and jaw. He peppered them over Mark’s hands. He kissed Mark’s knuckles, where the skin was pristine, even though Mark had undergone the same bruising, battering trials as the rest of the freaks. Even though Donghyuck himself was covered in band-aids from one fight or another.

Mark didn’t think he’d ever tire of the feel of Donghyuck at his side, warming him through and through. Mark didn’t think he’d ever have to feel the bite of cold again. Not with Donghyuck around.