〈 I Wish You Were Mine ╱ MarkHyuck 〉 ✓

스물하나

The campus hummed with the usual late-afternoon energy: distant laughter, the scrape of shoes against pavement, the low thrum of conversations spilling from lecture halls. Minhyung followed a few paces behind, hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie, eyes fixed on Donghyuck as he moved through the crowd with that effortless ease—the way he always did, drawing smiles without even trying.

Donghyuck's voice carried easily over the background noise, laughing at a joke Minhyung didn't catch, and Minhyung felt the familiar tightness coil in his chest. He could see the light in Donghyuck's eyes, the tilt of his head, the way his smile seemed to carve out a space in the world just for him. And it wasn't for him. Not anymore—or maybe it had never been.

Minhyung forced himself to breathe. He had promised himself long ago that he would be here, supporting Donghyuck no matter what, even if it meant standing on the sidelines while his heart broke.

"You're really hopeless at choosing classes," Donghyuck said suddenly, almost to himself, though his tone was teasing. "I mean, look at this schedule—how do you even survive?"

Minhyung didn't answer immediately. He let a small smile tug at the corner of his lips, though his insides ached. He could feel Donghyuck's energy, that bright, uncontainable spark, and it made him dizzy.

"I survive," he said finally, his voice low, steady. "I just... focus on what matters."

Donghyuck glanced at him, a flicker of curiosity crossing his features, but he didn't press. He just shrugged, laughing lightly, and Minhyung felt that sharp pang again—the one that reminded him that even though he was here, even though he was present, he could never compete with the sunlight Donghyuck seemed to chase so freely.

They walked together, slowly, past the library and down the winding path that cut through the engineering buildings. Donghyuck's chatter continued, a steady stream of anecdotes and observations about class, professors, and random campus happenings. Minhyung listened, nodding occasionally, but mostly staying silent, letting the boy speak, letting the warmth of his presence wash over him even as it tore at his heart.

"You know," Donghyuck said suddenly, his voice quieter now, almost reflective, "I think it's weird how some people just... stand out. Not because they're loud or smart, but because they make you feel like things could be easier. Like life isn't so heavy all the time."

Minhyung's chest tightened. Every word felt like it was directed at someone else, someone invisible, someone who wasn't him. But he forced himself to nod again. "Yeah," he murmured, his voice rougher than he intended. "I know what you mean."

Donghyuck smiled at him briefly, just enough to acknowledge him, before his attention drifted again to the bustling campus around them. Minhyung followed silently, aching in the quiet spaces between Donghyuck's sentences, feeling every laugh and gesture as if it were meant for someone else.

They stopped near the student lounge, where a group of friends lounged on the steps, waving at Donghyuck. He waved back, grinning, and Minhyung's stomach dropped. This was the life he had always supported him in—just not in this way, not like this, not when it made his own heart feel so fragile.

"Hey, Hyuck, you coming?" one of his friends called.

"Yeah, give me a minute," Donghyuck replied. Then, turning slightly toward Minhyung, he added, "You coming?"

Minhyung hesitated. He wanted to say yes, wanted to spend the afternoon with him, to keep being near, but the ache in his chest was heavy, and he felt the sharp edge of jealousy and fear cutting into his words. He forced a casual shrug. "Nah... I've got work to do."

Donghyuck nodded, unbothered, and that small nod, so innocuous, felt like a knife in Minhyung's ribs. He watched Donghyuck walk off, laughter trailing behind him, lighter than air, toward friends and the ease of being noticed. Minhyung stayed rooted, silent, aching.

He wanted to call him back. He wanted to shout, "Wait, don't leave me behind," but he didn't. He couldn't. He had learned long ago that Minhyung's role in Donghyuck's world was to be steadfast, invisible in the bright light, a constant shadow that could never step fully into it.

As the day wore on, Minhyung wandered the campus alone. He passed classrooms, glimpsed students laughing together, heard voices lifted in song and casual banter, and he felt the isolation settle deeper into his bones. Everything he saw reflected what he wanted: freedom, joy, unguarded happiness—but it wasn't for him. Not truly. Not if it came at the cost of Donghyuck drifting further away, wrapped in laughter that wasn't meant for him.

By the time the sun had begun to dip behind the buildings, casting long shadows across the quad, Minhyung found himself near the engineering lab, his fingers tracing the familiar grooves of the railings. He leaned against the metal, letting the quiet settle around him. He closed his eyes and imagined Donghyuck's laugh, the warmth of his hand if he were near, the impossible thought of what it would feel like if Donghyuck ever looked at him the way he looked at others.

He opened his eyes at the sound of approaching footsteps and found Donghyuck standing there, alone now, a stray notebook clutched in his hands. His expression was tired but bright, eyes still shimmering with a residual joy from the day.

"Hey," Donghyuck said softly.

"Hey," Minhyung replied, voice barely more than a whisper.

They stood there, neither moving closer, neither retreating. The weight between them was dense, silent, a tension neither dared to break yet both felt pressing.

"I... I had a good day," Donghyuck said, glancing away briefly. "Busy, but... good."

Minhyung nodded, his throat tight. "Good." He wanted to ask, to press, to demand to know every detail of the day, every thought, every smile—but he didn't. He only nodded, supporting, silently enduring.

Donghyuck finally looked back at him, and for a heartbeat, Minhyung thought there might be a trace of recognition in the depth of his gaze—an acknowledgment of his presence, perhaps even his pain. But the moment passed, and Donghyuck smiled softly. "Want to walk back together?"

Minhyung hesitated. It was a small, ordinary gesture, but the intensity of it felt like a test he could barely survive. Then he nodded, stepping beside him, their shoulders nearly brushing.

They walked in silence, the campus around them dimming as evening approached. The cool air settled over Minhyung like a shroud, carrying the scent of grass and the faint tang of the science labs. He listened to the rhythm of Donghyuck's footsteps, the occasional rustle of paper, the soft murmurs that escaped the other students.

Minhyung's thoughts were a storm. He wanted to reach out, to hold him, to confess, but he swallowed it down, holding himself in check. He was here for Donghyuck, not for himself. Always for Donghyuck.

As they neared the dorms, Donghyuck paused, glancing at him with something unspoken in his eyes. "Thanks," he said softly, voice almost shy. "For... you know... walking with me."

Minhyung swallowed hard. "Of course," he said, voice steady though his heart threatened to shatter. "Always."

And as they parted, each to their own room, Minhyung felt the silent scream of longing echo in his chest. He knew that supporting Donghyuck meant bearing this pain endlessly. He knew it would never be enough just to be near him. But he also knew he would never walk away.

Because loving him meant endurance. And even as his heart cracked quietly with each day, Minhyung would endure.