“Okay, they’re gone.” Jisung lets out, turning to face Mark.

“Yeah.” Mark knows what he wants to hear—what the rest of them also want to hear—and nervously picks at the non-existent lint on his pants.

“Taeyong hyung looked…” Jaemin breathes out instead, providing a short relief, eyes scrunching up worriedly.

“Like death warmed over.” Donghyuck deadpans, still wrapped tightly around Mark, making a warmth flutter in him. It’s fleeting, though, since Mark’s chest grows cold at the words, and the truth they hold. He thought Taeyong looked bad in the dark of the bedroom but, in the light, he looked just as Donghyuck’s described.

Death warmed over.

Mark feels a niggling doubt beginning to eat at his mind. He knows it’s his fault Taeyong’s worked himself to the point of near exhaustion, but how did his hyung manage to get reddened knuckles like that? He can’t help but remember the mottled red-pink of the bruise and Taeyong’s panicked eyes at their discovery. He remembers thinking that Taeyong thought he did something wrong…but what could that possibly be? Unless…

When he closes his eyes, Mark can see the look of stricken horror Taeyong sends his way at the mention of what Johnny’s done. He recalls the shadow of the all too familiar look of panic and self-disgust, mixed in together.

Mark has a feeling he knows what Taeyong’s done. But he tries to convince himself otherwise, telling himself he’s being ridiculous. Why would Taeyong go through all that effort for just him, Mark? The awkward, gangly boy from Canada who can’t dance well, who isn’t entertaining, who doesn’t know how to do anything but be a burden? Who just… who isn’t good enough.

“You need to be the best, not just better. In this industry, you can’t be good, you need to be good enough.”

Mark needs to bite his lip to hold back his tears, which burn tauntingly against his eyelids. It’s funny, how their Instructor actually was speaking the truth and Mark…Mark can’t believe he hasn’t given him the credit he deserves, for that. His hip stings in reminder of Instructor Kim’s good intentions, and he swallows back the nausea that threatens to overwhelm him.

“Mark?” Warm hands press against his cheeks—Donghyuck’s warm hands, he dimly realizes, and soft, worried brown eyes stare into his own, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Mark chokes out, “Just thinking.”

He doesn’t deserve all this love. Doesn’t deserve the soft eyes of s gazing at him with so much affection, and concern. The caring brushes of Donghyuck’s fingers against his skin. Doesn’t deserve any of it, at least not until he becomes good enough. If that’s ever possible.

“Thinking?” Renjun asks suspiciously from Taeil’s armchair, eyes narrowed, “About what?”

“Maybe about what you want to tell us?” Jeno smoothens gently, eyes creasing worriedly, “You know we only want what’s best for you.”

“I…there’s nothing to say.” Mark says belatedly, “I’m just being overdramatic as usual, nothing to worry about—”

“Hyung.” Chenle speaks for the first time, cheery features stern and focused; the sight of it makes Mark’s throat dry up, because when has his dongsaeng ever been so serious? “We know there’s not nothing. There is something and you’re not telling us and I know it’s somehow my fault!”

Mark doesn’t realize he’s getting visibly more upset until he sees Jisung take Chenle’s hand to calm him down. His cheeks warm involuntarily when Donghyuck does the same with him, but his mind is affixed on what Chenle’s just said.

I know it’s somehow my fault.

“It’s not!” Mark blurts out, once the sentence registers in his head and, in his panic, shifts around a bit. Donghyuck needs to move his weight a bit to adjust and that’s when it happens, the blistering pain that rockets up Mark’s leg, making him drop his head with a quiet cry.

Not quiet enough, apparently, because Donghyuck’s leaping out of his lap, lustrous tan skin looking unnaturally pale as he backs away, eyes wide and terrified.

“Mark?” Jeno rushes forward in alarm, even as Mark tries to muffle the sob that threatens to erupt out of him, the real, physical sting dancing with the phantom pangs, like a deadly medley of pain. “Mark, you’re hurt?”

“Is that why he said he can’t walk?” Jaemin demands even as he obligingly drops to his knees, hand searching along Mark’s leg to locate his bruise.

Mark feels slightly bad at the stricken expression decorating the younger boy’s face when he smacks his hand away, but the pain overshadows everything, save for the steady chants of ‘they can’t see, don’t let them see’.

“Hold him down.” Alarm bells blare through his mind at Renjun’s startlingly cold voice, and Mark can hardly sound out a protest when Jaemin and Jeno jump up to hold back his arms, and Jisung and Chenle tackle his legs.

“No!” He tries to yell, but all that comes out is a hoarse sob, and he shakes his head, trying to wriggle out of their grasp, “Stop! Renjun, please!”

Donghyuck’s just standing there, staring at Mark with an alien look of fear. And that hits him hard. In all the time Mark’s known Donghyuck, he’s seen a lot of different expressions, but never this one. Anger, sadness, vengeance, jealousy…but never abject terror. Never the emotion flitting across his demure features now.

And he grows numb, unable to believe it’s because of him—because of Mark—that Donghyuck’s grown so silent, so still and unlike himself, so that it becomes all too easy for Renjun to slide his pant leg up. The wrong side, though, and that prompts Mark to renew his struggled with double his initial vigor. He doesn’t kick his legs, afraid that his feet with accidentally catch the maknaes’ faces, in which case he’d actually feel like dying.

Like hurting s emotionally isn’t enough; hurting them physically would just take it to the next level. And Mark could never stomach that.

There’s also the fact that his side is going to hurt so much more if he does that, but it’s more muted, shoved to the corner of his mind.

“Mark.” Renjun huffs out disparagingly, hand steadying Mark’s jerking knee with a steady hand, “Make this easier for yourself, okay?”

“No, I don’t—” Mark chokes out, vision blurring with tears, “Stop, I can’t do this—”

Can’t do this to you guys. To myself.

This seems to snap Donghyuck out of his haze, because he’s hurriedly wiping at Mark’s cheeks and the rapper belatedly notices the familiar patches of wetness decorating his face. He’s been doing this a lot lately; crying, being annoying and whining about everything. He can’t help it but, God, he hates himself.

“Hey.” Donghyuck’s nasally voice sounds stuffy to Mark’s ears and, exhausted, Mark slumps over, letting his friend’s deft fingers comb through his hair, “Relax, okay? We’re all here for you, hyung, don’t worry.”

It’s rare for Donghyuck to call him hyung. It’s nice, and makes Mark smile the tiniest bit to himself, even as the guilt eats away at his heart.

“Finally.” Jisung mutters, as Renjun finally hoists Marks leg up and pushes back his pant all the way, “My arms actually hurt now—”

He breaks off, just as Renjun balks and Chenle gives a little screech in horror. All of them are staring at Mark’s bruise and he feels so exposed now, so excruciatingly vulnerable. Donghyuck doesn’t look down, keeping his eyes set on Mark’s face.

“What’s going on?” Jeno demands, as Jaemin attempts to peer down over Mark’s shoulder, “What happened?”

The two of them let go of Mark’s arms, to crowd at his side and gasp in the same tone of horror that the others used. Now that his arms are free, Mark pulls down the leg of his pant, even as Donghyuck’s tightening hands on his shoulders alerts him of the fact that everyone’s seen.

“What is that?” Jeno pales dramatically, clutching onto Jaemin for support. His eyes stare painfully at Mark, who looks away.

“Did you do this to yourself?” Jisung chokes out, just as Chenle’s eyes glimmer with tears. Mark’s stomach plummets as he realizes that it’s him who’s done this, him who’s made Chenle cry and isn’t he such a good leader now? Making everyone worry and shed precious tears over him?

“Yeah.” It comes out as a cracked whisper, and Mark closes his eyes at the lie. Or maybe it’s a half lie. Maybe not a lie at all. After all, it is because Mark was clumsy that day that this happened at all. And sure, Instructor Kim made it slightly worse but Mark…Mark deserved that. Deserves that. There’s nothing to refute there.

He needs to be good enough, not good. Needs to make sure he stays, that he doesn’t get left in the dust.

“You don’t want to get left behind, right?”

Mark’s shaking, and he only realizes when Donghyuck takes his trembling hands into his own, smiling painfully even as the light in his eyes slowly dies out. And, when Mark sees that, he feels himself die inside too.

“Don’t lie.” He pleads lowly, so unlike himself that it physically hurts to listen to him, “Please. Hyung, I think you and I both know the real reason here.”

Again with the hyung. Mark can recall a time where he jokingly said he wished Donghyuck would refer to him with a more respectful tone. Now, though, it leaves him cold inside.

“He only meant to help.” Mark mutters lowly, but not enough because Jaemin sharply asks, “He?”

Mark freezes up, realizing he’s let out too much, and Donghyuck squeezes his shoulders again, tighter this time.

“The dance instructor.” He says, mouth pressed into a firm line, “Instructor Kim.”

The door bangs open, and Johnny races in, slamming the door behind him.

“Hyung!” Mark can hardly stop himself from blurting out because dumb, stupid Mark and his dumb, stupid mouth, “Wait!”

Johnny obeys for a mere second, before his eyes pass over him sadly, and he sees the turmoil lining the Dream members’ faces. The anguish of not seeing everything, not being able to help their mathyung like they should’ve. And so, Johnny shakes his head.

“I’ll talk to you later.” He promises Mark, before a low fury—mixed with something else—ignites in his deep-set features, and he storms towards the rooms, “I need to speak to Taeyong first.”

Mark is immediately stricken with worry, because is he mad at Taeyong, he can’t be mad at him, not him, the only one who cares: the same string of words that Mark heard earlier when Donghyuck did the same. He knows, realistically, that no one’s really mad at his hyung, but his fears eat away at him, with the constant what if, what if, whatifwhatif?

“What?” Jeno is whispering slowly, as he turns teary eyes towards Mark, and the blonde’s focus immediately shifts back to the younger boys huddled around him, “N-No, this can’t be right, I…”

Renjun swears quietly in Chinese, and Mark’s not good enough at the language to understand the words, but when Chenle flinches back, tears dripping down his cheeks, he guesses it’s nothing good. And that kickstarts the gears in his brain, that tell him to fix this, look what you’ve done, F I X I T.

But Mark can’t, doesn’t know how. Never knows how, never can.

“Hyung.” Jaemin wobbles towards him, “Hyung, I’m so sorry.”

Jisung’s just staring emptily at him, eyes turning glossy, before he throws his arms around Mark’s neck, acting like the child he is. Acting like he’s never had the leisure to, before.

“Hyung, why?” He chokes out, squeezing out tears into the skin of Mark’s neck, “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“It’s fine really,” Mark rubs his back gently, though his eyes sting too, fixed on Donghyuck’s glimmering ones, “It’s okay.”

“It’s not!” Donghyuck vehemently protests, hands on his hips. His lip trembles, raw and bitten, “What on earth could make you think it’s okay?”

Because I deserve it. I’m not good enough.

Mark forces himself not to sink into those comforting, familiar thoughts; looks up, preparing himself to answer. But his mouth turns dry at the sight of their horrified expressions, the sheer despair in them. Why…why would they look like that, what did Mark do now, oh God—

“What do you mean by that?” Jisung clings tighter to him, even as Jeno drops to his knees, looking up at Mark, “What do you…how are you not good enough?”

Oh. They heard.

Mark shakes his head confusedly, not understanding why they’re all making such a big deal out of nothing. It’s not like he isn’t speaking the truth anyway, so why kick up such a fuss? Are they… are they testing him or something? Trying to figure out if he’s lying?

“Stop joking around.” He mutters, light-headed, as he casts a furtive glance at his shaking fingers, “You guys already know, why would you…?”

“Just…humor us.” Renjun sounds strange as he gets closer, “Please.”

“W-Well…” Mark looks nervously at their alien expressions, breath stuttering out of him, ‘I…”

He chokes up when Chenle hooks his arms around him, arms tangling with Jisung’s in pressing uncomfortably into his neck. The warmth of their bodies against his is nearly enough to set off the waterworks again, but Mark’s so done with it, knows he needs to stop crying all the damn time. He isn’t a baby. He doesn’t need to be babied.

“Please.” Donghyuck echoes, his voice sounding entirely far off, though his gaze still looks so heartbreaking, and that sends Mark flying off the edge, tears slipping freely from his eyes.

“I’m…” He swallows thickly, past the lump in his throat. Saying it out loud is much more difficult than keeping it inside: maybe this is the test he needs to pass, “I’m not… n-not really g-good at anything? And I always—I always m-mess up with e-everything and—”

He can’t get the words out anymore, voice tapering off into noiseless crying. He feels Jisung and Chenle shaking against him, can make out the tears trailing down Jeno’s face and Jaemin’s sniffling. Can see the anguish in Renjun’s eyes. The sheer devastation in Donghyuck’s.

He’s the hyung. He’s the leader. He’s the one who’s supposed to be comforting everyone, but what’s he doing? Sitting here, bawling his eyes out like a schoolboy. An immature, helpless, useless kid.

“Oh, Mark.” Jaemin wipes off the tears dribbling down Mark’s cheeks, even though he looks like he needs it more, “H-How could you ever say that about… about y-yourself?”

“You’re the most amazing person I know.” Jeno adds, exchanging a troubled glance with Renjun, even as the two of them struggle to keep their composures, but why, it isn’t like Mark is anything special.

“Mark, look at me.” Donghyuck’s fingers manage to pry Jisung’s arm off Mark’s face, even as the boy clings to him like a koala threatened to leave home. Mark is left with no choice but to stare into the brown eyes. Those warm eyes which can either make or break him.

“Jeno’s right. You’re amazing, perfect even. Someone who almost all of us aspire to be like.” His gaze is firm, even as his mouth trembles, and Mark briefly wonders how Donghyuck got so good at lying, “You’re…you’re you. Someone who I…someone who we’ve always treasured, and always plan to. We… we love you, hyung, even if we don’t say it.”

He breaks off and Mark watches dimly, even as Jaemin slings an arm around the brunette, trying to provide him some semblance of comfort.

“Okay, we…” Renjun breathes out, looking upwards with shaky fingers pressed together, “We need to figure things out, I…”

He trails off then, head hanging.

“I don’t know what to do.” He admits in a cracked whisper.

“Chenle,” Jeno calls, hand wrapped around Renjun’s arm, in a show of support, “Come here, please? You too, Jisung? I think you’re crowding Mark hyung.”

“No!” Chenle vehemently refuses, though Jisung just shakes his head frantically.

Honestly, Mark is just surprised that they haven’t tried to kick him away, or get rid of him, much less cling to him like they…like he means something.

His eyes burn, again.

Wouldn’t that be a nice thought? To wake up in a different body, a different person’s life and not have to be a burden. To be a great leader, to inspire happiness and tranquility in people? But, oh, who’s he kidding, Mark always messes up, always. That dream’s a long shot in the dark.

“Chenle, please!” That’s Renjun, in Chinese now, and Mark feels so, so helpless as Jaemin and Donghyuck shake in each other’s arms, and Jeno and Renjun look just seconds away from crumbling.

He’s done this. He’s made them like this, so fractured and broken and sad, so sad. Despondent and scared and everything that isn’t nice. Has he…has Mark failed the test? No, he can’t have, that isn’t possible, he answered so perfectly, didn’t he? Biting words dig into his mind, tearing down his feeble resistance as the steady chant rises up once more, venomous and sharp.

Not good enough. Never good enough.

Hey, hey, I'm back! I know, big surprise :P

In all seriousness, I was going to update this yesterday, but... I fell asleep. I only realized when I woke up in the middle of the night and by then, I was just too terrified to take even a step out of bed. Honestly, I'm such a scaredy-cat sometimes, but I'm sorry, I can't exactly help it.

I hope the story's coming along fine for you guys? If you see any problems--and I mean any, be it with plot or characterization or even spelling-- please don't hesitate to let me know! Constructive criticism helps me better my writing, and is always nice to see :)

Updates are gonna get reduced to once a week, from chapter 9 onwards, so this is just a little note to warn you guys about that^^ I hope all of you are having a lovely day/night, wherever you are <3