Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The humidity of the night fills the air of their neon-lit garage, tucked behind a ramen shop. As the crew preps for an underground race, Mark leans against his signature matte black Skyline, with his helmet in hand, while Donghyuck wipes grease from his fingers with a rag.

“You sure you tightened the struts this time?” Mark teases, voice low and lazy like he already knows the answer. Donghyuck doesn’t even glance up from the engine bay as he answers. “You sure you know how to use a clutch this time?”

Mark grins, and they hear Yuta snort, from across the garage. “God, just kiss already and save us all the secondhand tension.”

“Hyung—!” Donghyuck huffs, cheeks visibly pink despite the motor oil that's smudged across his face. He throws the rag towards a smirking Yuta and a cackling Johnny, and misses. Mark chuckles, tucking his helmet under one arm and pushing off the car.

“Anyways,” he says, stepping closer, “you done fussing over my baby?”

Donghyuck finally looks at him, eyes a little too soft for all the sarcasm he spits. “Your ‘baby’ would’ve blown a gasket two races ago if it weren’t for me, Lee.”

Mark tilts his head, gaze lingering just a second too long. “Good thing I’ve got you, then.”

And just like that, Donghyuck looks away. Because yeah - he knows Mark’s one of the best. Taught by Taeyong, undefeated in the circuit, a blur of confidence and control behind the wheel. But none of that stops his stomach from twisting every time he sees Mark pull up to the line. And despite his efforts to mask his worry, Mark notices. Of course he does. He always has.

“You nervous for me, Hyuck?” he asks, smirking. Donghyuck scoffs, but his voice wavers. “No. Don’t flatter yourself.”

Mark leans in, so close that Donghyuck can smell the leather of his jacket and the faint scent of engine oil clinging to him. “It’s cute, though,” he murmurs. “How you pretend not to care.”

Donghyuck freezes, before he scoffs again—less convincing this time—and turns back to the car.

“Just win,” he mutters. “So I don’t have to rebuild your dumb car again.”

Mark’s laugh echoes through the garage as he heads out. “No promises, babe.”

Donghyuck mutters a string of curses under his breath.

But when they’re at the race sight, and Mark’s car roars to life, ready to dominate the night, Hyuck can’t help but watch on with his hands clenched, and heart racing right along with him.

Chapter Text

A storm’s been threatening to break all evening. The scent of oil, steel, and lingering espresso from Johnny’s forgotten cup fills the air, as a tension simmers around the lit garage. Huddled around the hood of Mark’s car, the team discusses the stakes of Mark’s upcoming race with known rival and asshat, Min Hyunjae.

“…He always drifts too close in the third sector,” Jaehyun mutters, arms folded. “It’s intentional.”
Next to him, Jungwoo frowns as he recalls something he heard the other day. “He’s barely even gotten his license, who does this guy think he is?”

“He likes to think he’s hot shit,” Johnny scoffs, tossing a wrench onto the workbench.

Taeyong stays silent, but the flick of his eyes says everything. He’s seen drivers like that before. Ones who race not to win, but to destroy. Beside him, Doyoung exhales sharply, as he watches a replay of Hyunjae’s previous races, grimacing. “Mark, don’t take the outer lane on turn six. He’s gonna bait you into it. Just hold the inside line, keep your rear guarded.”

Mark, their hot topic, leans against the workbench with his helmet under his arm, nodding along casually. Too casually for Donghyuck’s liking. Mark shrugs. “I’ve seen his moves. I know his game.”

From where he is in the corner, Donghyuck hasn’t said a word. Not one sarcastic jab, not even a comment. He just has his arms crossed, lips pressed in a tight line, and teeth occasionally worrying at the corner of his mouth.

It’s not like he doesn’t have any input about Hyunjae. They all knew he was a dirty driver, with the same morale of a rock. But despite the fact that Mark had already raced Hyunjae before, and their hyungs giving out valuable advice, it didn’t do anything to ease Donghyuck’s nerves about the race.

~🏁~

They discuss for about another hour, before the hands of the clock begin to reach 12. One by one, the hyungs file out, offering their final warnings.

“Don’t let him get under your skin,” Taeyong says softly as he passes Mark.

“Be careful kid,” Yuta echoes. “No ego out there.”

And then, it’s quiet. Just the buzz of a flickering fluorescent light. As the door closes after Jungwoo, Donghyuck remains in the garage, perched on the edge of the workbench, not moving.

Mark saunters over, drops his helmet on the counter with a light thunk, and leans in just enough to break the silence.

“You’re biting your lip again,” he says gently, voice dipped in that familiar teasing warmth. Donghyuck blinks, like he’s only just come back to the room. “What? No I wasn’t.”

“You were,” Mark grins. “You always do when you're worried.” Donghyuck scoffs. “You wish.”

Mark tilts his head, eyes softening. “You wanna know how I’m gonna run it tomorrow?” Donghyuck raises an eyebrow. “…Sure. Impress me.”

Mark steps a little closer, like he’s letting him in on a secret. “Start strong in the first stretch - get ahead early so he can’t tail me. Hold a tight line on the curves, brake early at turn six to throw him off his rhythm. And if he tries anything stupid-”

“You’ll what?” Donghyuck cuts in, voice suddenly sharper than intended. “Out-manoeuvre someone who's half crashing just to win?”

There’s a pause. Mark studies him. Donghyuck’s arms are crossed tighter now, jaw set, eyes avoiding his. “…You’re worried.”

“No, I’m just not interested in watching you fly off the track because you decided to show off for the cameras or whatever,” Donghyuck mutters. “It’d be really embarrassing if you lost to a guy with the moral compass of a brick.”

Mark lets out a soft chuckle, the kind that bubbles up from somewhere deep. “You’re really bad at pretending you don’t care, y’know.”

Donghyuck groans, dragging a hand down his face. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re cute,” Mark grins, all teeth.

“Mark—”

“I’ll be fine,” he says, voice suddenly steadier. “I promise. I’m gonna wipe the floor with him, Hyuck. Smooth. Clean. I won’t even let him close enough to be a threat.”

Donghyuck looks at him for a long moment. Finally, he exhales, rolling his eyes like it physically pains him to admit that he believed Mark. “…You better keep your word, idiot.”

Mark’s grin softens. “Always do, babe.” Donghyuck flips him off, but the corners of his mouth twitch upward.

He stays in the garage a little longer after Mark waves and heads out, fingers brushing over the cool metal of the car’s hood. He doesn’t say it out loud, but he whispers it in his head as he watches Mark’s retreating figure.

Make it a safe race tomorrow, Mel.

Chapter Text

Dusk hits in Seoul, and the circuit lies in the shadow of city lights, as the atmosphere buzzes with adrenaline. People crowd the edges of the track, betting slips in hand, murmurs of tension and excitement stirring like a storm in the air. All eyes are on tonight’s showdown.

“Ten on Mark Lee. No—make it fifteen.”

“Don’t be stupid. That other guy’s cutthroat. Heard he clipped three bumpers last week and still walked away with a win.”

“Yeah and? Mark’s the one trained by the Taeyong. I’d bet my whole engine on him.”

The air around the track is thick with exhaust and ego. Engines rev in the distance. Green neon lights glint off chrome hoods. Fans line the barricades, trading theories and insults in equal measure.

Near the checkered lines, Johnny leans against the hood of Jaehyun’s car, arms folded and gaze more hardened than usual. Doyoung mutters something about having brought a med kit (“just in case,” he'd added dryly when Yuta raised him an eyebrow), as Jungwoo scrolls through his phone, reading off predictions and odds. Taeyong just watches the course, eyes narrowed like a storm cloud in human form.

Behind them, their dongsaengs arrive in a whirlwind of noise. Renjun and Chenle are seated atop Chenle’s car, as they argue about whether cheering counts as spiritual support, while Jisung tries to balance bubble tea and a flag with Mark’s name on it. Close by, Jeno and Jaemin are clad in their bike gear as they glance over Hyunjae’s car and crew. And, well Mark and Donghyuck… are missing.

~🏁~

It's a quiet bluff near the track, a patch of gravel and scrubby grass just above the chaos. There in the low evening sun, Mark stands alone, watching the curve of the course. His car’s already prepped, helmet waiting on the hood. But right now, he just breathes.

The sound of footsteps crunching gravel behind him is soft, but familiar. He doesn’t have to turn around to know who it is.

“Hyuck.”

Donghyuck stops beside him, not looking at him just yet. His hands are stuffed in his hoodie pocket, a bit more tense than usual. “You hiding from your adoring fans?” he asks, voice casual.

Mark smiles faintly. “Needed a minute.” Donghyuck hums. They stand in silence for a moment, overlooking the curve that’ll be the race’s most dangerous turn. “The crowd’s huge tonight,” Mark says.

“Yeah, well. Everyone loves a dramatic crash.”

Mark snorts. “You’re such a ray of sunshine.”

“You love it,” Donghyuck replies with a tiny smirk.

Silence again. The tension is subtle—but it hums between them like the low growl of an engine ready to go. Mark moves to grab his helmet.

“Wait,” Donghyuck blurts.

Mark pauses, turning, and finds Hyuck still staring at the track. His fingers twitch slightly at his sides. Like he’s debating saying one thing and settling on another.

“…On that first corner,” Hyuck says quietly, “there’s a dip on the inside. It’ll pull your rear tires if you’re not centered.”

Mark nods slowly. “Got it. Thanks, co-pilot.” But before he can say anything more, Donghyuck moves.

In one swift motion, he steps forward and loops his arms around Mark’s neck, pulling him into a hug. Mark freezes - but only for a beat. His arms slowly come around Donghyuck’s waist, holding him like he’s done it a hundred times in his dreams. It’s quiet. It’s warm. It’s everything they never say out loud.

Donghyuck mumbles against his shoulder, “Good luck out there. Be careful, idiot.”

Then he pulls back, cheeks flushed pink and eyes wide like oh god what did I just do. Mark was still processing. He was a little stunned and a lot giddy.

In front of him and no longer looking at him, Donghyuck clears his throat aggressively. “Anyways - if you lose to that asshole, I’m dropping you. We’re done. I’ll find a new best friend with better reflexes.”

At that, Mark laughs, full and warm. “Noted. But make sure you mark my words, Hyuck.” He picks up his helmet, eyes twinkling. “Because after that, especially? I’m winning this race. No one’s getting past me. Not tonight.”

Donghyuck rolls his eyes, but there’s a smile tugging at his lips. He bumps Mark’s shoulder as they head down the path together.

“Don’t make me regret the hug, Lee.”

“You won’t,” Mark grins. “You definitely won’t.”

Chapter Text

The sky over the street track had darkened, clouds thick and low like they were holding their breath. Floodlights lit the circuit in a harsh, electric glow. The gathered crowd pushed in against the barricades, phones raised, voices loud. The racers were already rolling into their places. Engines snarled and coughed, with the kind of low growl that made your ribs vibrate.

Mark’s car - a slick, black-lacquered beast with subtle cherry red decals - rolled up to the checkered line. He eased it in with one hand on the wheel, the other adjusting the gear ratio on the console, his mouth set in a quiet, unreadable line.

From the pit, the crew crowded behind the low barrier, every one of them tense.

“Look at him,” Jaehyun murmured, camera in hand but aimed low for now. “He’s already in it. Completely locked in.”

“How does he always manage to look so damn calm?” Johnny asks beside him. “I could bet his heartbeat’s going haywire right now.”

Eyeing the flashy car that rolls up behind Mark, Doyoung crossed his arms. “Hyunjae better watch his driving game tonight,” he said sharply. “With suspension mods and zero sportsmanship, I don’t even want to know what he’s planning.”

“That’s exactly why we’re watching him like hawks, babe,” Taeyong said, eyes narrowed, and an arm thrown around Doyoung. “Mark can handle it. But if that bastard gets too close on turn seven-”

“He won’t touch him,” Hyuck said from behind them. The others turned to look at him. Donghyuck hadn’t moved from where he stood, a step back from the rest, jaw tight, hoodie half-zipped, hands clenched around the railing. His voice was even, but his eyes tracked Mark’s car like he could steer it himself just by watching.

“You know Mark’s got this Hyuck…” Renjun says reassuringly. But Donghyuck doesn’t respond. He’s busy trying to calm his own heart that’s already beating too fast.

~🏁~

Mark flexed his fingers on the wheel. He took a slow breath. Engine rumbling beneath him like a beast eager to run.

Visuals clear. Grip optimal. No loss on the front left.


He mentally scanned the car like Hyuck had drilled into him a hundred times.


Rev sweet spot just under 6,000. Take turn 4 tight. Hold centre through the incline.

Hyunjae’s car idled beside him. Sleek silver with matte black stripes, the kind of car built to look cool - not to last. He wore a smoked visor, but Mark didn’t need to see his face. He knew his type. Dangerous. Flashy. Dirty.

The lights tick down. And soon enough…

Red.

Red.

Green.

GO.

The cars scream forward, engines howling as tires shriek against the pavement. The wind slams into the frame, and Mark’s body moves with the speed, like one with the car as it launches into the first turn. The crowd roars.

“LET’S GO MARK!!” Chenle screamed over everyone, now standing on the guardrail.

“DRIVE CLEAN! RACE TIGHT!” Jungwoo hollers out.

Donghyuck can only watch with anticipation and poorly concealed concern.

~🏁~

Mark and Hyunjae race hard.

Jisung has both hands over his mouth. “He’s leading, right? Right?”

“He is,” Taeyong utters, “but barely. Look - he’s getting boxed.”

Donghyuck feels his stomach drop as he sees the silver car drift dangerously close on the second straightaway. A textbook move, except it wasn’t.

Mark noticed too.

Too close.

He cut left just a hair, shifting his weight, easing into the apex.


Predict. React. Breathe.

The silver car nudged—tapped—his rear. Just a whisper of contact. But it was still enough. Hyuck flinched.

“That absolute piece of shit” Doyoung seethes. “That’s intentional. That’s got to be a warning.”

“Mark’s stabilizing though,” Jaehyun murmured, eyes flicking across the screen Johnny had pulled up from one of the cameras. “He’s holding the line. But that guy wants him off his rhythm.”

“Mark doesn’t have a rhythm,” Hyuck says, voice tight. “He is the rhythm.”

But even as he utters the words out, his throat continues to feel like it’s about to close up.

—

Mark's eyes narrowed.

So sloppy. So obvious.


He shifted down, took the inside edge. The car drifted just enough to shave time without losing traction.

I know your game.

Now turn 4. He braked early—just early enough to bait the rival into overshooting. The silver car lunged forward—and in that second, Mark snapped back into gear and cut in behind him, taking the line clean, gaining half a second.

Precision over panic.

—

Watching along, the crowd gasped.

“He did it—he baited him into oversteer!” Yuta shouted. “MARK LEE YOU ABSOLUTE DEMON.”

“HE’S SWEPT HIM CLEAN AS FUCK!” Jaemin yells, as he shakes a cheering Jeno beside him.

But Donghyuck doesn’t cheer. He can’t. His hands had gone numb.

He hears Renjun prod beside him, gently tapping his arm. But he doesn’t answer. His eyes were wide. His breathing short.

Because even though Mark had gained the lead, the silver car was still behind him. Too close behind him, and with the death trap of turn 7 quickly approaching. Mark had raced it before, but tonight? Tonight, the tarmac was slick from leftover drizzle. The wind had picked up. And the driver behind him had nothing to lose.

~🏁~

On turn 7, Mark's hands tightened on the wheel.


This is it.

Hyunjae’s car surged up alongside him — closer than legal, closer than safe. They were side by side now, engines shrieking, wheels a breath apart.

Hyuck couldn’t breathe. He gripped the railing so hard his knuckles turned white.

“DON’T-” he whispered. “Don’t you dare-”

He was nudged again. Mark’s car skidded.

For a split second, for just one heart-stopping breath - it looked like it was over.

Donghyuck can’t hid the shuddering gasp he lets out. Nearby, someone screams.

But Mark -

Mark corrected. Hard.

He oversteered, clipped the turn, let the tail end swing out - barely missing the barrier - and slammed back into control with sheer instinct and grit. He could feel a sharp strain pulling at his wrist and shoulder. Glass cracked, as his cheek caught a few clipped shards of glass. The side mirror flew. But the car held.

You’re not taking this from me.

Mark punched the accelerator, blew past Hyungjae, and tore through the final lap like a crazed man.

~🏁~

The people around him were yelling, but Hyuck couldn’t hear anything. He couldn’t move. He was staring at the final straightaway, every part of him frozen in some half-prayer.

And then - the finish. Mark crossed the line, nothing short of first.

“HE WON!!” 
“MARK!!” 
“HE’S OKAY-”
 “WE’RE ALIVE-”

The team tackled each other in a blur of limbs and screams. Doyoung was gripping Taeyong’s shoulder like he might faint, while Yuta shouted something at the Hyunjae’s pit crew that would’ve gotten him arrested in three countries.

But Donghyuck didn’t move.

He just stood there, willing himself to breathe.

Chapter Text

Mark barely had time to get his helmet off, before the crowd closed in.

Cameras. Microphones. People shouting his name.

Johnny was the first to reach him, dragging him into a sweaty half-hug.
“DUDE. You’re INSANE. You’re a LEGEND.”

“Bro, you almost died on turn 7!” Jeno was bouncing, face pale but excited.
“But the drift was so clean.”

Jaehyun handed him a water bottle, clapping his shoulder. “You okay? You’re bleeding.”

Mark gave a half-laugh, breathless. “I’m fine. Just-where’s Hyuck?”

The question made Jaehyun freeze for half a second.

He didn’t answer. Just looked over Mark’s shoulder.

Mark turned. He caught a flash of brown hair moving toward him – fast, before he was met with the words, “Mark fucking Lee, are you insane??!”

—

SOMEWHERE NEAR THE BARRIER

Hyuck had pushed his way through the crowd, the second Mark’s car screeched to a stop. He didn’t wait for the winner’s circle, or the podium, or the part where the crowd cheered like Mark was untouchable.

He needed to see him. Needed to see for himself.

And the second his eyes landed on Mark - shirt torn at the collar, sweat streaking his jaw, blood trickling from a cut near his temple– it was like a dam broke.

Hyuck shoved past a group of onlookers and stormed up to him.

“Mark fucking Lee, are you insane??!”

Mark’s smile faltered. “Hyuck–”

“No. Don’t you Hyuck me right now.” His voice cracked, sharp and shaken.

“You nearly died, Mark. You almost got slammed into that barrier. Do you even realise how close it was?”

Mark opened his mouth. Hyuck didn’t let him speak.

“Of course you knew. Of course you did. You always know. And you still drove like you had nothing to lose!”

“I had to take the win—”

“I don’t give a shit about the win!” Hyuck snapped, voice rising over the chaos around them. “I don’t care if you finish first, or fifth, or never again. You could’ve gotten so hurt, Mark.”

His voice trembled.

“You could’ve-” He paused, hands curling into fists at his sides. “I saw the mirror fly. I thought-God, I thought that was it-”

The strangled sob slipped out before he could stop it. Just one. But it hit like a punch.

Mark felt like someone had knocked the air out of him. He reached for him. “Hyuck, hey I-”

But Hyuck stepped back, eyes shining and shoulders drawn in like he was holding himself together with sheer force of will.

“I need a minute,” he said. “I can’t—I need to breathe.”

And he turned away, shoving through the crowd with a trembling jaw and eyes full of fear.

—

A Few Feet Away

Silence. The rest of them watched on, frozen.

Jisung’s eyes were wide. “Did Hyuck–?”

Renjun reached over and grabbed his wrist gently.

“He’s okay,” he murmured. “Just—give him space.”

Jaemin watched Mark with a soft frown, like he wanted to say something but didn’t know what would help.

Taeyong’s mouth was set in a tight line. “I knew it would hit him hard,” he muttered.

“Yeah,” Doyoung said quietly. “But not like that.”

—

Mark stood rooted in place, the ache in his side nothing compared to the hollow drop in his chest.

Hyuck had walked away from him before. Stormed off during arguments, rolled his eyes and told him to “go crash somewhere else” during late-night tune-up bickering.

But this? This wasn’t anger.

This was fear.

It was the same look Hyuck had worn - barely - on that one night, two years ago; when Mark had almost flipped his car during a midnight solo run on the backroads. He’d been testing new tires. No one else had been there.

Except Hyuck. Who’d shown up just in time to see the skid. Mark remembered it vividly.

Hyuck, shaking, sitting on the floor of the garage when Mark got back.
Refusing to speak. His eyes rimmed red.

Mark had held him for an hour in silence that night. And now, that same silence was roaring back in his head.

“I’m such an idiot,” he muttered.

“Maybe you are,” Johnny said softly. “But, hey- you’re alive. And Hyuck’s just scared, man.”

“I know,” Mark whispered. “I know he is. But I hate that I’m the one who made him feel that way again.”

The moment the crowd thinned and the cameras blinked off, Mark shoved the towel someone had handed him into a stranger’s chest and ran.

The blood on his arm was starting to clot, but his heart still pounded with something far worse than adrenaline—something hollow, sharp-edged, and tangled in the way Donghyuck had looked at him.

Like Mark had broken something.

Like maybe this time… he really had.

Chapter Text

The door to their workshop's rooftop creaked, as Donghyuck stepped out into the cool night.

The air smelled like wet pavement and motor oil, but the breeze carried a strange kind of relief. The kind that only came after everything had been too loud, for too long.

He dragged in a breath and leaned against the concrete barrier, elbows braced as he stared out at the twinkling city lights just beyond the track walls.

His hands were still trembling.

The adrenaline had drained from his system in waves, and now that it was gone, all he felt was hollow and… stupid.

Embarrassed, maybe. Not for caring – but for how much it had shown.

He shut his eyes.

God.

He’d completely lost it in front of the entire crew. He’d shouted, choked on his own tears, and stormed off-
 

"Like some angsty fucking boyfriend," he muttered to himself, burying his face into his arms with a groan. "The worst part is that we're not even dating", he lamented, still reeling from the too public breakdown.

But that was the thing, wasn’t it?

The way he’d felt, while watching Mark nearly crash – that wasn’t how you felt about just anyone.

That kind of fear carved into your ribs and lodged itself into the softest part of your chest.

That kind of fear didn’t just go away.

Hyuck clenched his jaw.

He didn’t know how long he stood there like that – eyes closed, wind pressing into his hoodie, trying to breathe out the ache.

But then, quietly-

The rooftop door opened.

He didn’t look right away. The footsteps behind him were soft. Careful.

And then a pair of hands came up to his shoulders.

Not forceful. Just a gentle pressure. A grounding one.

“You okay?” came Doyoung’s voice, low and kind.

Donghyuck didn’t answer immediately. He just sighed – deep and shaky – and tilted his head slightly toward the comforting touch.

“I’m tired,” he admitted. “And… I’m still kinda freaked out.”

Doyoung nodded. “Yeah. That tracks.”

He didn’t move away.

For a moment, the wind filled the silence between them, wrapping around them like a second presence.

“You had every right to feel what you felt,” Doyoung said after a pause. “We were all scared out of our minds, Hyuck. But you…” He gave a soft squeeze to his shoulders. “It was different for you, wasn't it?” 

Hyuck let out a bitter laugh. “Yeah. Because I made a scene.”

“No,” Doyoung said gently. “Because it’s him. And we all know it.”

Hyuck looked down. His voice was smaller this time. “Do you think I overreacted?”

He got a shake of a head, and a comforting rub to his back from his hyung.

“No. Even if it seemed a bit dramatic, it was beyond valid.”

Doyoung chuckled sheepishly, as he continued, “I, for one, would know. How’d you think I felt whenever your Taeyongie-hyung drove? You out of all people, should know how I was before and during his races, which I avoided attending half of the time.”

Donghyuck grinned, as his memories resurface to a panicked and nervous Doyoung.

He was always pacing in the garage before Taeyong’s races, while the said driver would hold him amusedly and tease his boyfriend for being more nervous than anyone else on the track.

It always earned a slap on the arm from Doyoung, and Taeyong’s hearty laughter before they’d have their little “good luck kiss”.

Doyoung couldn't help the fond expression on his face too, before he suddenly admitted,

“I think… that if it had been you in that car instead of Mark, he would’ve been ten times worse.”

Hyuck blinked.

Doyoung gave him a warm, crooked smile. “He’d be a goner, Hyuck. He’s been head-over-heels for you since forever. I know you try to hide how much you care about each other, but honestly? None of us are buying it.”

A tiny huff escaped Hyuck’s throat. Somewhere between a scoff and a sigh.

He didn’t say it, but his eyes stung again.

Doyoung gave his shoulder one last encouraging pat, before going towards the door.

“He’s probably looking for you,” he said, turning the handle. “Talk to him. I think it’s time.”

Then he was gone.

And Hyuck was alone again.

But this time, he didn’t feel quite so lost.

Chapter Text

The metal rooftop door clicked shut behind Doyoung with a soft thud.

He exhaled as he descended the narrow stairwell, the faint hum of overhead fluorescents buzzing around him. The rain hadn’t started yet—but the sky was bruised and full, the air damp with warning.

At the bottom of the stairs, he turned into the hallway- 

And immediately stopped.

Mark was pacing.

Back and forth. Back and forth.

His jacket was half-zipped, damp with sweat. His hair still damp from his quick wash, though a few pieces stuck to his forehead, like he hadn’t bothered with a towel. There was a frown on his face - small, pinched, teeth occasionally catching on his bottom lip.

He was clearly in his head. Overthinking. Wound up tight.

He didn’t even notice Doyoung until their eyes met.

Mark froze mid-step, expression flitting through surprise. “Doyoung-hyung? Hi, I-”

But before he could get the rest out, Doyoung raised a hand gently, already knowing.

“I’m glad you’re mostly in one piece,” he said with a calm smile. “And congrats, by the way.”

Mark blinked. “Oh. Thanks, hyung.”

Doyoung’s voice softened just a notch. “You’re lucky that barrier didn’t hit harder. That was… close, to say the least.”

Mark’s mouth twitched, shame creeping behind his eyes. “Yeah. I-”

“You drove like you had nothing to lose,” Doyoung said, echoing Hyuck’s earlier words - but without the fury. Just the gentle kind of reprimand that only a hyung could pull off. “Even for you, that was pushing it.”

Mark winced. “I know. It was stupid.”

Doyoung’s lips curved faintly. “Fearless, maybe. But next time? Try not to scare the entire team half to death.”

A sheepish laugh slipped out of Mark’s throat. “Yeah. Noted.”

Then came a pause.

A loaded, silent beat between them.

Mark looked like he wanted to ask. Like he was fighting to find the right words.

But Doyoung spoke first.

“He’s on the rooftop.”

Mark’s eyes widened slightly.

Doyoung nodded toward the stairwell. “Still coming down from it all. He needed air.”

“…Was he okay? I mean-”

“He’s not mad. Not really,” Doyoung said, eyes kind. “Just… shaken. Maybe a little embarrassed. But mostly worried. You scared him more than he expected.”

Mark’s throat tightened.

“I know,” he whispered.

Doyoung gave his shoulder a single, solid pat. “Go talk to him.”

Mark hesitated for a breath—then nodded.

“Thanks hyung.” he smiles, albeit tiredly, but with his gratitude all the same. “What would I do without you and your wisdom?”

“Probably crash or confess over text.” Doyoung says smugly. “Now get going, you know he’s not one to be kept waiting.”

And with that, Mark turned, stepping past Doyoung and heading up the stairs two at a time, heart thudding louder with each step.

The sky rumbled above.

And the moment was waiting.

Chapter Text

The metal door creaked open again.

This time, Hyuck didn’t turn.

He knew who it was.

The steps were lighter than Doyoung’s, a little uneven and hesitant, as if the person walking was thinking too much. Overthinking, maybe. Just like him.

Mark came up beside him quietly and eased down onto the ledge, shoulder just brushing Hyuck’s.

Neither of them spoke at first.

They just sat there - side by side - gazing out at the city, lights stretching out like starlight in every direction, faint fog curling between buildings. The sky above them was thick with cloud, the kind that threatened more rain but hadn't yet made up its mind.

Mark glanced at Hyuck from the corner of his eye.

Hyuck was hugging his knees up, hoodie sleeves pushed over his hands, mouth pressed into a thin line. His eyes were trained forward, unmoving.

But Mark saw the tension in his jaw. The subtle way his fingers twitched against the fabric of his jeans.

Hyuck was trying not to feel anything. Or at least, trying not to show it.

So Mark waited.

And after a minute- just long enough for the silence to soften, Hyuck spoke.

“I really thought you were gonna crash.”

His voice was quiet, almost flat. But there was something steely under it. Something that trembled just enough to betray the calm.

“I knew that guy raced dirty. And that turn? Bloody turn 7? When you clipped that barrier…” He stopped. Took a breath. “I felt like my heart dropped straight out of my chest.”

Mark stayed still, watching him now, gaze full and open.

“I hate that I felt like that,” Hyuck went on, voice firm now, like he was trying to stay composed. “Like I couldn’t breathe for five straight seconds. Like my brain just... shut off.”

His grip around his knees tightened.

“I kept thinking—what if that had been it? What if I had to watch them drag your car off the track? What if I had to see your name in a headline for the wrong reason?”

Mark's throat tightened.

Hyuck’s voice lowered, but it didn’t shake anymore. “I felt stupid. I still feel stupid. I freaked out in front of everyone. Cried like- like we’re some tragic soap opera couple or something.”

He let out a dry laugh, but it lacked any real humour.

“I mean, we’re not even—”

His voice caught.

But before he could backpedal, Mark gently reached over and brushed his pinky against Hyuck’s.

Just the barest touch.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” Mark said softly. “But I’m glad you told me.”

Hyuck didn’t look at him.

But Mark saw the way his cheeks pinked, spreading up to his ears, visible even under the soft rooftop lights.

And despite everything - despite the blood still drying beneath his bandages, despite the ache in his ribs from the impact - Mark’s heart did this quiet, fluttery thing.

Like it had finally been seen.

Because Hyuck might be pretending this wasn’t a big deal.

But his flushed cheeks, his tightened grip, the way he was curled inward like he was trying to contain too much feeling—it was all there.

Mark bit back a smile.

God, he loved this boy so much it hurt.

Chapter Text

The sky rumbled above them.

Still no rain, but the clouds hung heavy and the air was cool enough that it made Hyuck hug his knees a little tighter.

Mark was still beside him. Quiet. Warm.

Hyuck stared out at the city lights like they held all the answers, like if he just focused hard enough, he wouldn’t say what was caught on the edge of his tongue.

But Mark wasn’t saying anything either.

And that silence? It was starting to itch under his skin.

So, with a sigh, and fingers fiddling with the seam of his hoodie, Hyuck finally muttered, “You’re such an idiot.”

Mark glanced at him, a soft, amused breath catching in his throat. “Yeah. Kinda figured.”

“I mean it,” Hyuck said, still not looking at him. “You really pulled the most reckless, grand, stupidest stunt I’ve ever seen, and it’s so like you to do something that dangerous with that stupid ‘trust-me-I-got-this’ smirk-”

Mark opened his mouth to reply, but Hyuck cut him off.

“And the worst part?” Hyuck went on, voice low, a little hoarse now. “Even after all of that-after watching you nearly crash and burn like the overconfident lunatic you are-”

His fingers twisted tighter in the hem of his hoodie.

“I still love you.”

Silence.

Hyuck’s shoulders tensed.

“I love you,” he repeated, this time softer, like the words hurt a little. “So much that if today had gone even slightly worse, I wouldn’t… I don’t think I’d know how to live with it. How to go on without you just… existing somewhere in my orbit.”

His throat bobbed, breath hitching.

And before he could stop them—before he could even blink—the tears slipped free.

Damn it.

He dragged a sleeve across his face quickly, trying to hide it, but Mark had already seen.

Mark, who had gone still and wide-eyed beside him.

Mark, who was now moving.

Quietly, carefully, he turned to face Hyuck fully - one leg bent, the other tucked underneath.

“Hey,” Mark whispered.

Hyuck didn’t look up.

Mark reached out, slow and deliberate, fingers brushing against Hyuck’s cheek, catching the wet trail of a tear with the pad of his thumb.

Hyuck flinched just slightly - but didn’t pull away.

Mark cupped his jaw gently. His other hand found Hyuck’s wrist and stilled it, stopping him from scrubbing at his face like he could erase the confession.

“Look at me,” Mark said softly.

Hyuck didn’t.

So Mark smiled a little - just the tiniest bit - and said,

“You're crying and you still won’t look at me, huh? Classic.”


Hyuck made a frustrated noise, cheeks blooming even redder.

“I’m not crying, shut up,” he grumbled, voice thick. “It’s just—the wind—”

Mark chuckled, heart clenching with too much affection.

He brushed another tear away, thumb lingering at the corner of Hyuck’s eye.

“I’m serious,” he murmured. “Look at me, Hyuck.”

It took a second. But eventually, slowly—Hyuck turned.

Their eyes met.

And Mark’s breath caught.

Because God, how could someone still look cute while crying? Red eyes, flushed cheeks, lashes wet and blinking fast like he still wanted to pretend he wasn’t breaking wide open.

Mark’s heart felt too full for his chest.

“You love me?” he asked, voice a whisper now.

Hyuck’s lips trembled, but he nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “I do.”

And Mark’s smile broke through—so soft, so full of everything he’d been holding in.

“Good,” he said quietly. “Because I love you too.”

Hyuck’s eyes widened.

And for a moment, the air between them felt like it might crack under the weight of it.

But then Mark leaned in, close enough that his forehead gently touched Hyuck’s.

“I’ve loved you for a long time, Hyuck,” he whispered. “I just didn’t know how to say it. Not without risking… all this.”

Hyuck closed his eyes, exhaling shakily. “Too late now.”

Mark chuckled again, and this time, it was full of breath and warmth and relief.

“Yeah,” he said. “Way too late.”

－

They stayed like that for a second.

Foreheads pressed. Breathing shared.

And Mark, who still had Hyuck’s face cradled in his palms like he was something fragile and sacred, leaned back just far enough to see him clearly again.

His eyes traced over Hyuck’s flushed cheeks, his swollen lower lip, the soft crease between his brows that hadn’t quite gone away yet. There was a quiet storm still in Hyuck’s eyes - something that hadn’t settled.

But God, he was precious.

He always had been. But like this - messy and vulnerable and just Hyuck - Mark didn’t think he’d ever seen anything more heart-wrenchingly lovely.

So softly it was almost inaudible, Mark asked, “Can I kiss you?”

Hyuck blinked.

Then he let out a watery, incredulous laugh - half-exhausted, half-overwhelmed, but still distinctly Hyuck.

“If you don’t kiss me right now,” he muttered, eyes glinting behind tears, “I swear I’m gonna punch you in the face.”

Mark snorted.

“Back to empty threats, are we?” he grinned, and before Hyuck could reply, he leaned in-

And kissed him.

It wasn’t fireworks. It wasn’t dramatic or desperate.

It was soft.

It was certain.

Mark’s lips brushed against Hyuck’s with quiet reverence, and Hyuck melted into him like he’d been waiting for it his whole life. One of Mark’s hands slipped from Hyuck’s jaw to settle at his waist, fingers gently curling into the fabric of his hoodie.

Hyuck’s own hands hovered for a moment - unsure, shaking - before clutching at the front of Mark’s jacket like an anchor.

The kiss deepened just a fraction, breath catching, warmth blooming, and then they broke apart, just enough to gasp in air, their noses brushing.

Hyuck’s eyes fluttered open.

Mark was smiling. Wide. Soft. Stupidly in love.

Hyuck blinked at him, dazed.

“I can still punch you, you know,” he mumbled.

Mark chuckled and pulled him into a hug that felt tight, secure and real.

They sat like that for a while.

Just wrapped up in each other, hearts still racing, as the wind finally began to die down and the mist in the air lightened. The clouds above were beginning to break, a few stars peeking out shyly through the parting grey.

Hyuck rested his head on Mark’s shoulder, his arms around his waist. “Took us long enough,” he muttered.

“Worth the wait,” Mark replied, chin tucked over Hyuck’s hair.

Neither of them said anything after that.

They didn’t need to.

Chapter Text

The rain had stopped by the time they came down from the roof.

It left the air smelling like fresh pavement and something new—like the end of a storm and the start of something good.

Mark kept Hyuck’s hand in his the whole way down the stairs.

And Hyuck, still red-cheeked but glowing, let him.

When they pushed open the door to the main floor of the garage, they were met by the sound of quiet chatter and the low hum of someone playing music from a speaker. Their hyungs and dongsaengs were all still there, half-pretending not to loiter, with the tension from earlier slowly unwinding into casual celebration.

But the moment someone turned and spotted them, the energy shifted.

It was Jaemin who noticed first and, in true Jaemin fashion, he gasped like he’d just seen the twist of the century.

“Oh my god, they’re holding hands,” he practically screamed.

Everyone’s heads whipped around.

The room exploded.

Yuta let out a whistle so sharp it echoed through the rafters. “FINALLY,” he called, laughing

“About damn time,” Johnny said, throwing his arms in the air like he’d won a bet with the universe. “My ship. My beautiful, chaotic ship has sailed.”

Taeyong smiled so wide his eyes crinkled, hands coming up to press together as he looked between them with a fondness so warm it made Mark’s ears burn. “You two…” he said softly. “I’m glad for you both.”

Next to him, Doyoung was nodding, proud but also vaguely smug. “Told you it’d work out,” he muttered, arms crossed, though the smile tugging at his lips said more than words ever could.

Jaehyun gave them a quiet smile from his spot by the tool bench. He didn’t say much, but the way he nodded at Mark - relieved and proud - said everything.

Meanwhile, Renjun groaned and practically collapsed onto a couch. “Oh, thank god. I was one more pining stare away from throwing myself into a moving vehicle.”

Jaemin walked up to them and made a whole dramatic circle around the pair before clapping his hands. “I am SO proud of you guys. Like, emotionally moved. Turned on a little. Mostly proud.”

“Jaemin,” Mark muttered, face already red.

Hyuck just raised an eyebrow. “Don’t make it weird.”

“I live in weird,” Jaemin winked.

Jeno stepped in next, pulling both of them into a hug that was quick but strong. “Congrats, you two,” he said, genuine and steady as always. “Took you long enough.”

Then came Chenle and Jisung—like twin gremlins full of chaos.

“OKAY WAIT,” Chenle shouted, pointing between them. “Who confessed first? I need to know. For reasons.”

“Betting reasons,” Jisung added helpfully.

“Exactly,” Chenle said. “I said Hyuck would break first, Jisung said Mark. We bet a week of dish duty.”

Hyuck blinked, looked at Mark, and then said, “Technically… I confessed.”

“YESSS,” Chenle cheered.

“DAMN IT,” Jisung groaned.

But before either could say anything else, Hyuck grinned.

“But Mark asked if he could kiss me first.”

Everyone howled.

Johnny mock-fainted. Yuta yelled, “WHIPPED,” and Renjun muttered something about moving to another garage just for peace of mind.


Mark just hid his face in Hyuck’s shoulder.

But the laughter settled into warmth. Into quiet claps on the back, congratulatory hugs, and soft glances that said we’ve all been waiting for this.

As the night wore on, the garage stayed full. Someone brought snacks. Jungwoo played a romantic ballad on the aux, while Jaemin pestered them for couple photos. But through it all, Mark and Hyuck stayed close - sometimes sitting, sometimes just standing and talking to everyone.

And every time their hands brushed, they found each other again.

－

Later, when most of the lights had dimmed and some of the crew were starting to doze off in corners, Mark looked over at Hyuck, who was curled up beside him with sleepy eyes and a little smile on his lips.

“You’re still not over it, huh?” Hyuck murmured.

Mark shook his head. “Nope.”

Hyuck smirked. “Didn't take you to be such a romantic loser.”

Mark just laughed, before he kissed his temple. “Your romantic loser though.”

Hyuck leaned in. “Yeah,” he whispered. “Mine.”