When they were little and hosted sleepovers for each other, Haechan and Mark would spend Saturday mornings in bed watching cartoons, and then playing video games, and then gossiping. Nowadays, the two spent their Saturdays apart with Haechan in his own bed and Mark in his, but they still somehow managed to spend the time together.
“You up?” Haechan had texted at eight in the morning because he had always been a light sleeper and that’s when his mom, making all that noise, left for work.
Mark responded instantaneously. “Yup.”
Within minutes, Haechan’s morning text had turned into a morning Facetime.
Haechan sat on the floor, leaning against his bed with a bowl of cereal in his lap. Cartoons played on his small tv but his focus was on the even smaller screen containing the ramen-noodle head boy he had come to love. As a good friend, that was.
Truth be told, Haechan loved Mark with his sleepy bedhead. It was like witnessing a side of him that no one else had access to. There was no need to beat around the bush; Mark was an attractive guy. He was damn near perfect if you asked Haechan. He knew he couldn’t keep the blonde to himself, so he cherished the little moments and the exclusivity that came with it. It was nice and one of the many perks of being Mark’s best friend that he didn’t let go to waste.
Sometimes, he wondered if Mark thought the same way. Did Mark think there were perks to being Haechan’s friend? He wondered, but would never dare to ask. That was one risk that didn’t need to be cashed in.
Truth be told though, Mark did think the same way that Haechan did. Mark loved Haechan with his swollen morning face because his cheeks looked even more pinchable. And kissable if he might add. He adored how Haechan, a bit self-conscious with his natural appearance, let Mark see him “pre-beat” and didn’t care. He actually loved how much Haechan loosened up when there weren’t an extra pair of eyes watching them.
It was crazy to think how their daily habits wouldn’t be too much different if they were to start dating. There’d just be a little more… love and affection thrown around in the mix.
Mark had been thinking about that a lot lately actually.
What would it be like to marry Mr. Lee Donghyuck?
They already had the same last name so it wasn’t like someone could come and say that either one of their married names was invalid because it technically had never changed. The way he looked at it, the universe had cut a few corners when they made them soulmates so now, they could just skip that step. There would be no debating about whose last name sounded better. Just wedding vows, “I do’s”, and a big fat juicy—
“Cherry Bomb!!” Haechan shouted, causing Mark to jump.
“Kiss?” Mark mumbled. “Uh, I mean, what?”
Haechan pretended not to hear his strange fumble and proceeded to explain to him how Doyoung sneakily announced on Twitter what the summer festival play would be. “It’s Cherry Bomb,” Haechan explained. “You know, that play that Doyoung co-wrote with that Japanese writer, Yuta. Yuta Nakamochi or something, I don’t know. I just can’t believe he got it approved. We’ve never performed an original play at the summer festival before, have we?”
Mark fake-thought about it before shaking his head. A small smile graced his features as he watched Haechan freak out, down his cereal milk, and then freak out some more.
“Are you going to say something or just stare at me like you’re—”
“—Like I’m what?” Mark asked, leaning into his camera. Even then, Haechan could feel him breathing way too close to him. Like I’m in love, maybe?
“Like you’re having an existential crisis,” Haechan finished. He got up to go throw his bowl in the sink and no, Mark swears he did not see Haechan in a pair of boxers or his beautiful, exposed legs, a shade lighter than the rest of his body. When Haechan returned and yup, that’s exactly what he saw, Mark couldn’t help but comment on it.
“Do you shave Haechan? Mark asked seriously, but not to the point where his tone was weird. Regardless, it still came off as weird to Haechan.
“Um… no?” Haechan said. “Why?” Suddenly feeling ballsy, Haechan extended one of his legs out towards the camera. “Does it look like I do?” he mock pouted. He ran his fingers down his leg and up again, poking the flesh of his thigh.
Mark licked his lips. Were Haechan’s legs of all the things really doing things to him? No, he was too old for this shit. He shut his eyes and willed an awkward moment of embarrassment away. Happy thoughts. Haechan. No! Gross thoughts. Old grandmas taking baths with their dogs. Yeah. That was gross. That would work.
“Are you ok?” Haechan asked.
Mark peeked an eye open and remembered that it was a two-way connection and that he could be seen. He probably looked constipated or something. However, nasty grandma covered in wet dog hair did the trick because Haechan’s leg was miraculously back under his comforter.
“A-are you,” Mark cleared his throat. ‘Do you wanna meet up and practice our lines today? There’s still a part I’m a bit shaky on.”
Haechan rolled his eyes. At the end of the day, Mark was still an overachiever.
“Yeah, alright, noodle boy,” he said accidentally. His hand slapped over his mouth but it was too late. “Sorry,” Haechan said sheepishly, “you weren’t supposed to hear that.” Awkward chuckle.
Mark blinked. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.
“Don’t think I won’t get you back for that, H.”
And then he hung up.
Haechan laughed to himself again and prayed for whatever God there was to have mercy on his soul.
(Um hey, it’s me again. Didn’t expect this one scene to be so long. My plan was not generous enough. So, as of now, this could be a 10(or more) part series. Idrk. I’m talking out of my ass lmao. Regardless, the next parts will be big, fat, and juicy!)