#imk oc

[MK's POV – MEGAPOLIS, ROOF – EVENING]

The air smelled of a hot city and soy sauce, the megapolis buzzed below, with its unmistakable noise of horns, footsteps and engines, but up there, with the wind playing with his bandana, mk felt like none of it touched him, nothing…except Ink, sitting next to him, too quiet to be him.

"How strange," he thought, taking another bite of bread. He smiled up at the sky, as if he could laugh out loud.

Mk: Hey – he said lightly – are you sure you don't want one? They're freshly made, and the cart guy gave them to me with extra sauce.

I expected an amused snort, some sarcastic line from Ink like, "You should stop bribing Mr. Ramen." But there was only silence, followed by a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

Ink:…I'm fine, thanks.

Mk held the bun halfway to his mouth. He didn't like that voice, that tone; it was as if Ink was saying goodbye with every word.

Something twisted in his chest.

Mk: Are you okay? – he asked, stopping chewing –.

The silence returned, but this time it was different, not comfortable, not shared, it was cold, distant, charged.

And then Ink said it.

Ink: I'm leaving Megapolis, mk.

The world stopped.

Mk didn't know if it was the wind that died away or his heart. He didn't understand the words, no…he couldn't understand them, his mind refused.

Mk: What...? – he forced himself to ask, his voice coming out as a whisper – What do you mean... you're leaving?

He expected a "just kidding," a "you fell for it," but Ink wasn't laughing. He looked at him with that calmness that hurt more than a storm. With the calm of someone who has already made a decision.

And my chest burned.

For months? And he didn't know anything? Why didn't he tell him before? Why now?

Mk: And you already decided that without telling me first?

His voice trembled, he didn't tremble, not when he was delivering, not when he was running... but this did shake him inside.

And then she heard him say, “I’m telling you now, because if I wait any longer, I won’t be able to do it.”

That hurt more than any blow.

Mk gulped, all the ramen in the world couldn't fill the void in his stomach.

Mk: And what about me? – he managed to say, lowering his head – were you just going to leave me behind?

And what hurt him most, what made his chest churn, was that... he'd been on the verge of doing it. He'd been on the verge of telling her what he felt, what he'd had buried deep inside for so long. What he himself didn't know how to name properly, but he knew was there, that thing that tied him to Ink beyond friendship, beyond jokes, beyond Megapolis.

But now…what was the point?

Ink was leaving.

And he couldn't stop it.

So when Ink put his hand on his shoulder, when he told him that sometimes you just need to step away…mk just nodded.

Because if he said anything else, he was afraid his voice would break completely.

Mk: When are you leaving?

Ink: tomorrow at dawn.

And with that, the day turned to night before its time.

The wind was blowing harder now, or maybe it just felt that way inside.

Mk sat on the rooftop even after Ink left. He didn't know how much time had passed. He just knew the bun wrapper was still crumpled in his hand, and the taste had turned bitter, even though it had nothing to do with food.

Her mind echoed Ink's words over and over again. "I need something different," "He's suffocating me," "Sometimes you have to walk away so you don't break."

Mk gritted his teeth, looking down.

Mk: And what about me...? – he whispered to himself this time – I didn't want you to change anything...

He took his phone out of his pocket and opened the conversation with Ink. There were no recent messages. He thought about writing something... something to stop him, or at least to say everything he didn't dare.

But his fingers froze on the screen.

Mk: Don't make it harder - he told himself - if you really want him... you let him go, right?

A bitter laugh came out of him suddenly, briefly, then silence enveloped him again.

Mk:...idiot – he murmured in a broken voice – you didn't have to leave me...you were already doing it for a long time, right?

He rubbed his eyes with his sleeve, swallowing what remained of the emotion in his throat.

At that moment, the boy who always smiled while delivering ramen felt lonely.

And as the sun set, mk promised herself that she would keep going, as he had taught her, even if every step cost her.

story #6 - story #7 (past) - story #7.2 (pov mk)

[MEGAPOLIS - ROOFTOP - AFTERNOON]

I don't like it when the translator changes things.

The sky over Megapolis burned in warm hues, the traffic shone like rivers of light below them, and from the rooftop of the old building where they used to meet, the world seemed further away, almost unreal. Ink had her elbows on her knees, her gaze lost among the orange clouds that slowly swallowed the sun. Beside her, Mk devoured a noodle bun with the simple happiness of someone who needs nothing else, laughing to himself at a joke he'd heard before, not yet noticing that Ink wasn't laughing with him this time.

Mk: Hey – Mk said, tearing open the crispy wrapper of another bun – are you sure you don't want one? They're freshly made, and the guy at the cart gave them to me with extra sauce.

Ink looked down at the bag for a second. He smiled, but it was the kind of smile that curls at the edges with sadness.

Ink: ...I'm fine, thanks – he tone was soft, but heavy –.

Mk blinked, chewing more slowly. His expression creased a little in confusion. He turned to his friend, noticing now how his shoulders slumped more than usual, how his fingers tightened together in his lap.

Mk: are you okay? – Mk asked, more serious now –.

Ink He didn't answer right away. His eyes remained fixed on the horizon as if he were searching for something there, something that only he could see. Then, without looking at him yet, he said it:

Ink: I'm leaving megapolis, Mk.

Mk straightened up.

Mk: what do you mean...you're leaving?

Ink He slowly turned his head to look at him. His face was serene, but there was something broken in his eyes, something forcibly contained.

Ink: I've been thinking about it for months, all of this... – he reached out a hand to the city – It's drowning me, Mk. I need something different. Silence, space, something that doesn't remind me of everything I haven't been able to do here.

Mk looked at him as if he were joking, as if he expected ink to burst out laughing and say, "You believed it." But the laughter didn't come.

Mk: and you already decided that without telling me first?

Ink: i wanted to...find the right moment, but there isn't a moment like that. So... I'm telling you now, because if I wait any longer, I won't be able to do it.

Mk fell silent, his expression changing from surprise to something denser. Like a lump in his throat that he didn't know how to release.

Mk: and me? – he asked, lowering his voice – were you just going to leave me behind?

Ink: i would never leave you behind – he answered immediately – it's not that, I just...need a change, some space, but I'm not going to forget you, Mk...Never...

The boy with the red bow lowered his head, the bread wrapper crunched in his hand without squeezing it, he swallowed with difficulty.

Mk: you were always the one who pushed me to move forward – he said – the one who thought differently, now you leave and...you leave me with all those dreams hanging.

Ink looked at him, for a moment it seemed like he was going to say something, but instead, he just moved a little closer, resting a hand on his friend's shoulder.

Ink: Sometimes you have to walk away so you don't break inside – he whispered – but that doesn't mean I don't care, you know that, right?

Mk nods, almost without strength.

Mk: when are you leaving?

Ink: tomorrow at dawn.

The silence returned, this time with a different weight, a goodbye still unsaid, but already present between the two.

.

.

.

.

◇

♧Warning of too much text...you don't need to read it♧

[INK’S APARTMENT – AFTERNOON]

The living room is a mess. Graffiti-strewn papers are all over the floor, a broken vase lies next to a fallen table, and something that looks like soup is spilled on the carpet. Ink is standing in the middle of the room, clenching his fists as he looks at the two clones, who are sitting on the couch as if nothing happened.

Ink: – screaming – How the hell do they manage to make such a mess in such a short time?!

Porty: –shrugging – Well, the carpet was just begging for some color, and that vase… it was ugly.

Ink: – angrily – That’s no excuse! I’ve been dealing with this for weeks! Do you ever think before you act?

Artist: – crossing his arms – Hey, it wasn’t all our fault. The table was already wobbly.

Ink: – pointing at them – Yeah, right! And I guess the soup just decided to tip over on its own, huh?

Porty rolls his eyes, while artist sighs tiredly. The tension in the room continues to build.

Ink: – exasperated – I don’t know what to do with you two anymore. Do you know how hard it is to keep this place halfway decent with you two causing trouble every other minute?

Porty: – suddenly raising his voice – Well, no one’s forcing you to stay with us, Ink!

Ink freezes, surprised by porty’s tone. The silence grows palpable, but Porty doesn’t stop.

Porty: If it’s so unbearable for you, why don’t you just kick us out? Huh? What’s stopping you?

Ink tries to respond, but before he can, Porty MK steps forward, his gaze defiant.

Porty: – bitterly – Oh, wait…maybe I know why. Maybe you have us here because we remind you of the real MK. Someone you left behind.

The words fall like a bucket of cold water. Artist turns sharply to porty, his eyes filled with shock and disbelief.

Artist: – quietly – Porty, stop.

But the damage has already been done. Ink is standing still, his gaze fixed on porty. His expression changes from fury to something more pained, something more vulnerable.

Ink: – quietly – Is that what you think?

Porty, realizing what he just said, steps back slightly. His defiant demeanor falters, but he says nothing. Artist steps forward, attempting to mediate.

Artist: Ink, he didn’t mean it like that. I was just…

Ink: – interrupting him – No. Leave it.

Ink takes a deep breath, trying to maintain his composure. He turns around and starts walking toward his room, but stops in the doorway.

Ink: – not looking at them – I don’t have them here because of MK. You guys chose to come, and I chose to let you stay. Not because you remind me of anyone, but because I thought you might be more than just a couple of problems walking around.

His words are like a sentence. Porty stares at the floor, unable to respond. Artist looks at Ink with a mix of worry and guilt.

Ink: – quietly – But if that’s what you think...maybe I made a mistake.

Without further ado, Ink closes the door to his room. The silence that remains is almost unbearable. Porty sinks into the couch, avoiding artist’s gaze.

Artist: – quietly – What the hell is wrong with you, Porty?

Porty: – whispering – I don’t know…I don’t know.

Guilt weighs on them as the apartment sits in awkward silence, waiting for someone to make the first move to fix what they just broke.

◇◇◇

Porty is still sitting on the couch, staring at the floor with his hands clasped on his knees. Artist is standing next to him, watching him silently, waiting for him to say something. Finally, Porty sighs and stands up.

Porty: – in a low voice – I have to fix this.

Artist: – nodding – You better be.

Porty approaches Ink's bedroom door and raises his hand to knock, but hesitates for a moment. Finally, he takes a deep breath and gives two soft knocks.

Porty: Ink…I know you probably don't want to see me right now, but…can I come in?

There is silence on the other side of the door, and for a moment it seems like he won't get a response. Then the door slowly opens. Ink is there, with a tired expression, but he lets him in.

Ink: – crossing his arms – What do you want?

Porty walks in and stands near the door, not knowing exactly how to begin. He looks at Ink with a mixture of guilt and sincerity.

Porty: I want to apologize...

Ink doesn't say anything, but her gently curious expression encourages him to continue.

Porty: What I said before… I had no right to do that. It was cruel and unfair. I… I was just frustrated and I said the first thing that came to my mind.

Ink: – arching an eyebrow – And that makes it less hurtful?

Porty: – looking down – No, he doesn't.

The silence between them lengthens, but Porty steps forward, his eyes showing a flash of vulnerability for the first time.

Porty: The truth is… I'm not used to apologizing. Most people see us as problems, as uncontrolled monkeys. But you… you gave us a place here, even when we don't deserve it.

Ink watches porty for a moment, his expression slowly changing from hard to something more neutral.

Ink: – sighing – And why do you think I do it?

Porty: – looking at him – Because… maybe you see something in us that we ourselves can’t see.

Ink falls silent, processing those words. Finally, he sighs and runs a hand through his hair.

Ink: – tiredly – Porty, I don’t care what you were or what you are. All I care about is what you choose to be now.

Porty nods slowly, understanding the weight of those words.

Porty: I'm really sorry...

Ink watches him for a moment longer, before nodding in resignation.

Ink: – more relaxed – It’s okay. Just… think before you speak next time, okay?

Porty: – with a small smile – I’ll try.

Ink lets out a small sigh of relief and points to the door.

Ink: Go rest. Tomorrow will be another difficult day.

Porty: – nodding – Yes, of course.

Porty leaves the room, leaving Ink in a moment of quiet. Artist, who had been listening from the living room, looks at him with a slight smile.

Artist: – in a low voice – How did it go?

Porty: – smiling ironically – Let's say I survived.

[INK'S APARTMENT - NIGHT]

The apartment is quiet, save for the faint creaking of furniture as it settles in the cold of the night. The lights are off, letting the faint moonlight filter through the window, dimly illuminating the space. Ink is lying on his sofa bed, one arm over his eyes, motionless. His jacket is thrown on the floor, and the air in the room feels heavy.

Porty and artist are at the small dining table, talking in whispers. They both glance sideways at Ink, who seems completely disconnected from the world.

Porty: – quietly – Is he always this…gloomy?

Artist: – thoughtfully – I don't know. I think what happened today affected him more than he wants to admit.

Porty: – sighing – Yeah, well…it's not like it's easy to see.

Artist nods, resting his chin on one hand. The two clones are silent for a moment, before Porty stands up and walks over to the couch.

Porty: – crossing his arms – Hey, are you just gonna stay there all night? Because you're starting to look like a TV drama.

Ink doesn't respond, just lets out a long sigh. Porty frowns and leans in a little closer.

Porty: – insisting – Look, I know seeing mk put you in a bad mood, but you can't just stand there like this. It's not like he's here to—

Ink: – interrupting – Stop it.

Porty stops, surprised by Ink's tone. Ink removes his arm from his eyes and looks at him, visibly tired.

Ink: – quietly – Just…leave me alone, will you?

Porty opens his mouth to respond, but artist walks over and grabs his arm.

Artist: – quietly – Leave him alone. He won't listen now.

Porty snorts, but steps back, letting artist take his place. Artist sits on the floor next to the couch, and looks at Ink with a calmer expression.

Artist: – softly – You don't have to talk, but if you want to...here we are.

Ink closes his eyes, letting out another sigh. For a moment, no one says anything. The silence stretches, but it doesn't feel awkward.

Ink: – finally, quietly – It's not just mk.

Artist: – looking at him – So what is it?

Ink: – staring at the ceiling – That's it. You guys, him, this mess...I just wanted a quiet life. To get away from all that. But now...I feel like I'm trapped again.

Artist watches him, nodding slowly.

Artist: – thoughtfully – And that's bad?

Ink: – turning his head toward him – What?

Artist: – with a slight smile – Being trapped. Maybe what scares you isn't that, but that part of you misses everything you left behind.

Ink falls silent, staring at artist. His words seem to resonate with him in a way he didn't expect.

Porty: – from the table – Well, I don't know about you, but I don't see anything wrong with a little chaos. It makes life more interesting.

Artist shoots a warning glance at porty , but Ink, to his surprise, lets out a small laugh. It's short and muffled, but there it is.

Ink: – sarcastically – Yeah, right. Because that's just what I need: more chaos.

Artist smiles softly, as porty approaches again, arms behind his head.

Porty: – shrugging – Hey, it could be worse. We could have brought the whole Megapolis with us.

Ink: – sighing – Don't give me any ideas…

Though he still looks exhausted, there's something less heavy about Ink's expression now. The clones exchange a satisfied glance before artist stands up and pats him lightly on the shoulder.

Artist: Get some rest, Ink. Tomorrow will be a better day.

As the clones walk away to leave him alone, Ink closes his eyes and lets silence fill the apartment again. Though his mind is still filled with doubt, a small part of him is beginning to accept that maybe he's not as alone as he thought.

Story #4 - story # 4.2

[ALLEY NEAR THE MARKET – AFTERNOON]

Ink walks quickly down a less crowded alley, away from the market. Porty and artist follow him, although they now seem more interested in ink's strange attitude than in the shopping bags.

Porty: – crossing his arms as he walks – hey, ink, don't think we didn't notice how you froze when you saw mk.

Artist: – biting his snacks – yeah, it seemed like you saw…I don't know, your past coming back to haunt you?

Ink: – without looking at them – it's nothing.

Porty: – arching an eyebrow – nothing? you looked like you were about to panic.

Ink: – sighs – just leave it, okay?

Artist quickens his pace and stands in front of ink, stopping him.

Artist: – serious – look, if it's for us, say it, if you think mk would recognize us or something, we can handle it.

Ink: – shaking his head – it's not about that.

Porty stops as well, looking at him with his arms crossed.

Porty: so what is it? does it bring back bad memories or something?

Ink stays silent for a moment, staring at the floor. Finally, he sighs and decides to speak.

Ink: – looking at him – it's not that simple. I don't know if I'm still a part of his life, or if he even wants to see me after all this time.

Porty frowns, crossing his arms.

Porty: and that's why you prefer to hide? That doesn't sound like something a friend would do.

Artist: – joking – besides, if I were mk and I saw myself in incognito clothes, I would definitely want explanations.

Ink can't help but let out a nervous laugh, though he quickly regains his seriousness.

Ink: – sighs – you guys don't understand...mk has his own life now...I'm not a part of that...

Porty: – shrugging – maybe, but you won't know either if you keep running in the opposite direction.

Ink looks at him, surprised by the clarity in his words. Before he can answer, artist smiles and pats ink on the back.

Artist: well, for now you don't have to worry, we've got you trapped with our craziness.

Ink: – rolling his eyes – yeah, like I could forget.

The group keeps walking, but the weight of what porty said hangs in the air. Ink, although he doesn't admit it, can't stop thinking about what would have happened if he had talked to mk.

Ink: – thinking – maybe…someday.

[MEGAPOLIS – CENTRAL MARKET – EVENING]

The streets of Megapolis are full of life, people walking back and forth, food stalls full of customers, and the typical bustle of a big city. Ink walks through the market, with porty and artist following closely behind him, both wearing clothes that hide their unique features: hats, sunglasses, and scarves that cover part of their faces.

Porty: – looking around – I forget this city is huge.

Artist: – pointing to a stall – can we buy that? Look, it’s a dragon-shaped snack!

Ink: – sighing – we’re not here to stroll around or waste money on useless things.

Artist: – pouting – but…it’s edible art.

Porty laughs as ink ignores him, the group continues walking through the crowd, trying to stay unnoticed.

Ink: – thinking – I just have to pick up what I have and get out of here, the less time we spend in megapolis, the better.

As they walk, ink suddenly sees a familiar flash: a delivery man on his scooter speeding down the street. The ramen stand’s logo is unmistakable.

Ink: – muttering – it can’t be…

Ink stops dead in his tracks, his gaze fixed on the delivery man. It’s... MK?!, carrying an order on his scooter (I can’t remember his name) with the same energy as always.

Ink: – thinking – what is he doing here? No… of course, he’s still a delivery man, but…

His stomach knots at the sight of him. Memories of their past friendship resurface with force, mixed with the complicated emotions of now taking care of his clones, instinctively, ink takes a step back and hides behind a fruit stand.

Ink stays behind the stand, watching mk from afar, he sees how the boy delivers an order with a big smile and speeds away on his scooter. Ink sighs deeply, feeling trapped between his past and his present.

Ink: – thinking – should I approach him? tell him something? But…what could I say to him?

He’s so lost in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice porty sneaking up behind him, suddenly, porty pats him on the shoulder.

Porty: – loudly – hey, we already have everything we need! Let’s go!

Ink jumps up and turns around sharply, clearly scared.

Ink: porty! what the hell are you doing?

Porty: – laughing – relax, I was just letting you know.

Artist: – showing up with a bag full of snacks – and yeah, we got the dragon snack too.

Ink: – rubbing his temples – I can’t handle you guys…

He takes one last look towards the street where he saw mk, but the delivery man is gone, he sighs and turns around, walking towards the market exit with the clones following him.

Ink: – thinking – maybe it was better this way, I’m not ready to face that…

The three of them disappear into the crowd, leaving the bustle of megapolis behind.

[INK'S APARTMENT - AFTERNOON]

The mess in the apartment is monumental: paint spilled on the table, books on the floor, and clothes hanging in odd places. Ink is clearly fed up as he tries to clean up.

Ink: – growling – How can they be so chaotic? It's like they live to destroy everything in their path!

Porty: – laughing nervously – Well, technically we're a reflection of the original… and he's not very tidy either!

Artist: – adding while painting on the wall – They call it spontaneous art.

Ink: – pointing at them – I call it a mess. And you better start cleaning up or…

Before he can finish, porty trips over a chair and, in an attempt to keep from falling, grabs onto Ink's arm, but they both lose their balance.

Ink: Watch out!

They both fall to the floor tangled up, and, in the process, their faces end up too close. By pure chance (or bad luck) their lips briefly touch.

Ink: – frozen –…

Porty: – frozen – Uh…

An awkward silence fills the apartment, broken only by artist’s explosive laughter, who watches from the corner.

Artist: – joking – Hey, if you wanted a private moment, all you had to do was ask.

Ink: – exasperated – Shut up!

Porty, still nervous, scratches the back of his neck, glancing at Ink out of the corner of his eye.

Ink: – screaming – It was an accident! Nothing more!

Porty: – quietly – Well, at least it was my first kiss…

Ink: – turning around quickly – What did you say?!

Porty: – laughing nervously – Nothing! Nothing!

They both quickly get up, avoiding eye contact. Artist continues to laugh as he approaches, clearly enjoying the moment.

Artist: – joking – Is this how you settle your fights? Because if so, I need a camera to record the next one.

Ink: – glaring at him – Shut up or I'll make you clean up all by yourself!

Porty, nervous, scratches the back of his neck and looks away, but can't help but cast a quick glance at Ink. For his part, Ink tries to compose himself, but his mind keeps remembering the moment.

Ink: – thinking – It was just an accident...right?

Later that night, while everyone is off doing their own activities, porty sits on the couch, staring at the ceiling. Artist is asleep in the corner, while Ink is organizing some books with an obvious effort to distract himself.

Porty: – speaking quietly – Hey, Ink...

Ink: – not looking at him – What?

Porty: – awkward – About earlier... eh, sorry. I didn't mean for it to be weird.

Ink: – standing up and looking at him at last – Don't worry. It was… an accident.

For a moment, there's an awkward silence. Porty looks down, playing with the hem of his jacket.

Porty: – almost whispering – Although…it wasn't that bad.

Ink blinks, surprised. Porty quickly stands up, trying to get out of the awkward moment.

Porty: – quickly – Anyway! I'm going to… check the TV or something.

Porty disappears into the other room, leaving Ink standing there, confused and, to his surprise, a little nervous.

Ink: – thinking, sighing – This is getting more complicated than I expected…