Park Jisung just didn’t do feelings, okay?

Well, that was what a boy his age wanted everybody else to believe, anyway.  He was perpetually torn between allowing others inside his circle of emotions and desperately trying to keep them out. He was the youngest, after all; while Jisung knew the older members didn’t exactly mean to baby him so much, it was also hard not to do so since they practically watched him grow up since he walked on tiny feet.

There were a few things he was glad about, though. His height would be one of them, since he already towered over the rest of NCT Dream and soon, he was expected to be one of the tallest. He also already grew into his deep voice and rather large hands. Basically, he was beginning to appear much older than he was and older than even those older than him. If anything, Jisung was excited to just keep growing.

Then, there was Mark.

He didn’t mean that negatively—Jisung’s pretty certain there were very few negative things that can be said about the older boy—but he also wasn’t sure if it was a happy discovery. Around Mark, Jisung just couldn’t help but feel so young all the time. Granted, Mark was the eldest in their NCT unit, but he wasn’t the eldest overall. Mark himself had been the youngest in a group before, but around him, Jisung just felt different.

He has yet to truly decide if it was a good different or not.

Overall, he just felt like a kid all over again, but Jisung didn’t feel that strongly against it.

If he had to admit, which he never will, he might even say he liked being around Mark more than the rest. Mark, who was always there as a shoulder to lean on and even to cry on—again, not something Jisung’s proud of but something he didn’t exactly hide either—and someone who in time just grew to become someone Jisung wanted to be, in all aspects of life. There was even a point in his life where Jisung, despite his young age, figured he probably liked Mark more than he should.

Sometimes, thoughts like that still drift into his mind when he least expects it, but he’s quick to get rid of them now.

Despite the times he’s cried in front of the others, Jisung was still adamant about how he wasn’t emotional. Really, he’s not. He knew how to keep such feelings in check, knew when to push down the urge to cry, and also knew when to ignore the flutter in his heart whenever Mark would pat his head and say that he did a good job. He’s done that last thing way too many times that he must be an expert at it by now.

Still, sometimes, Jisung would allow himself to naturally navigate towards Mark at the end of practice, head tucked down in an attempt to be smaller than he actually was. He would gratefully accept the way his hear would end up messed up and the sound of Mark’s laugh that always followed, leaving Jisung with a swell in his chest that would take a while to go down. During the moments where his eyes were blurry with tears, legs unable to move, he knew the first pair of arms that would wrap around him would belong to nobody else.

Zhong Chenle had a lot of favourites.

That went with the fact that Chenle received and had a lot of things in general, along with his overall enjoyment of life, that made him easily label anything as his favourite. Why not live and enjoy life, right? He had favourite songs, favourite movies, favourite days of the week, a favourite hat, and when asked, multiple favourite NCT members since it was hard to choose from a group so nice to him.

His classic answer would be Renjun; the favourite that anybody could tell from the way they bonded. Great help with translating, someone he could relate to in NCT Dream, all of which were true. The others would also speculate Lucas at times, or maybe even Jaehyun, but another given would be Mark since he was Dream’s dependable eldest after all. No matter how much Chenle joked around with the older boy, Mark took everything with ease.

If Chenle had to choose just one favourite, he would say it was Mark, with no hesitation.

(Renjun would fake being offended, but he understood it just as much as everybody else did.)

Honestly, the younger boy didn’t have an exact explanation for why it was Mark. It was something that changed every now and then; sometimes, it was because Mark was such a good sport. Other days, it was because Mark was fun to be with and played with him more than the rest, in a way that Chenle found comfort in even without knowing he needed the comfort. There were also days where Mark just takes control in his own, calm manner, and Chenle would be left in awe.

He was, however, sure that his answer was Mark.

There were a lot of things about Mark that Chenle could easily claim to be his favourite thing about the older boy, too, but that also meant going on and on about him. As much as Chenle was notorious for being loud and noisy half the time, there were some things he liked keeping for himself. The small moments he noticed, the parts of Mark he liked, even the rare ones that he found himself disliking, Chenle kept them all listed down in his head. It felt like a secret, sometimes, even if his choice was one he shared often.

(Sometimes he wondered if that was why his head was that size; must have been filled with too much of Mark, and sure, the rest of the members were quite the number too.)

Na Jaemin has been in love with Mark since he was fourteen.

At least, he was pretty sure there was no other way to describe just how much he enjoyed being around the older boy. Along the way, he figured he was just the type with too much love to give, since he eventually shared the love to pretty much every other member. Still, Jaemin would easily admit that he loved Mark the most, since it was something that just came so easily to him, almost like it was what he was meant to do all his life. He doesn’t think it would be hard at all.

The thing with Jaemin was that he was hardly shy about it.

He was notoriously clingy and overly sweet even without trying, everybody knew that. Jaemin himself liked that everybody knew he was like that, too. Most of all, he liked how much Mark wouldn’t complain whenever Jaemin would l