#invicible

you'd joined his school once the summer was over, and you spent lunchtimes with william and mark together, always talking about that comic mark loved, seance dog.

while you didn't like the comics as much as they did, you loved to hear them talk about them, especially the way mark got so animated when arguing with william about it.

you realised at some point at a lunchtime during school that you'd liked him a lot more than a friend. he'd been leaning forward talking to you, and when he'd gotten too close, you'd gotten nervous. your heart thumping, palms sweaty kind of nervous.

and that made you scared. he was your friend, first and foremost, and your feelings for him were pushed down, deep, deep, deep. locked in a little box where your heart would have been, in a bigger box, in a bigger box. which was then locked in large steel chains.

a little bit of an overkill, but you really weren't risking shit.

your friendship was sweet, mark was sweet, and he especially was sweet to you. mark was too sweet, too good to you.

kind, charming and funny, always cracking jokes to you in class, teasing you just enough to get you flustered, but only as a joke, which he would say.

it hurt a little, but as you said before, friendship was more important to you.

problem was, as soon as you hit 16, he'd stopped. stopped talking to you in the halls, stopped talking to you in class, stopped coming over. he'd dodge you in the halls, and pretended not to be home when you'd come over.

william didn't get it either, saying how mark wouldn't tell him why he'd been avoiding you, and goddamn, it hurt.

you'd been hurt, so hurt, and you'd had enough. he stopped responding to your messages, and had just stopped leaving you on read, opting instead to leave you on delivered.

that was the last straw for you. so you stopped trying. stopped looking for him the halls, stopped going over to his house to look for him, stopped messaging him, and stopped sitting with them at lunch.

and as soon as you'd disappeared from their normal table at lunch, mark had gone back to sit with william.

you'd seen it happen first time. sitting next to a guy who'd been begging you to sit with you at lunch for months, you'd zoned out from the boring conversation as soon as he'd started. he was going on about something about being on the football team and being the MIP of the team, but you weren't listening.

your eyes were on mark as he made his way through the hustling and bustling cafeteria, his yellow shirt underneath his blue sweater always standing out.

his sleeves were pushed up his forearms, and you'd been able to see the muscle in them, flexing as he carried his tray with one hand. you hated how it still invoked the butterflies in your stomach, and it pissed the hell out of you.

you dragged your eyes forcefully away from him, trying to pay attention to jacob and whatever he was saying about his football. but no matter what happened, your eyes went right back at mark.

him laughing, talking with william and just acting completely unaffected by your absence.

'fuck him'. you thought to yourself.

and just as easy that mark had come into your life, he disappeared from it.

a year had passed since then, and it was easier than it was before, but still not as easy as your friendship had been.

you still loved him, which pissed you off to no end, despite his completely lack of care for you.

initially you had tried to smile at him in the halls as you'd walked by in different directions, but he always stood straight, ignoring you completely, eyes ahead as you stumbled over your steps.

you told yourself it was for the better, that you didn't want his attention anymore, but that little box in of your heart ached every time you thought that.

william and you still spoke, but you'd found another group of friends, only ever talking to william when mark wasn't around.

and then, there was a new superhero.

invincible, (cue title card) or so he called himself. quite frankly, mark was horrible at hiding his identity.

ducking out of class, only minutes later invincible arriving on a scene. he had the same hair, same build and height, and that same….mark feeling.

but you didn't tell anyone, you didn't say anything to anyone, and god, why did it matter if you knew who he was. he wasn't your mark anymore, you weren't even friends.

you'd watched him as he changed over time, growing taller, broader and stronger.

you couldn't help but notice, and yet again it was something you cursed your stupid little heart box for.

in the halls it was easier to notice, he'd shot up over the summer, especially now that he's got his powers.

it's crazy to think that mark is invincible, especially the guy who was once your mark. well, he's no longer your mark, as you should be able to tell due to the complete and absolute avoidance of you.

still, with absolutely no reasoning whatsoever behind it.

william, even a year later, still urges you to speak to mark. but you refuse, saying that "it was completely unwarranted," And that "you didn't do anything that deserved this kind of treatment." all that could have possibly happened would be that he had enough of you.

he just stopped liking you and that there was absolutely no other reasoning behind it. which lowkey sucked but still, men ain't shit (says you who literally sometimes still cry remembering about how fucking upset you were when he just disappeared out your life.)

william is done. he really is. he's had enough of both you and mark, how mark just refuses to talk to you and how you just fucking won't talk to mark either.

it's not really your fault. you tried, you really did, messaging him, showing up, just anything you used to do together.

debbie, who you still see around occasionally, gives you a sad smile sometimes, like she knows what's happening. but you never ask, because maybe you don't want to know. but you also do, which is a big problem.

you're currently just hanging around at williams, watching TV with him when there's a news alert. 'Breaking, invincible in fight with (generic) villain'

you watch with bated breath, watching mark, or invincible, getting absolutely beaten up, quite frankly, and youre really worried for a moment there that you're gonna be attending a funeral.

but somehow, like normal he always managed to get out of it, but it leaves him bruised and bleeding. you're so irrevocably fucked, you want everything in the world to pause just so you can check if he's okay.

but you have to remind yourself you can't do that anymore, he's not your friend.

you're tired, so unbelievably tired. you're missing your conversations together, you're missing just being near him, being allowed to look at him with more than just stolen glances. you're just tired, and you want it all to go back to normal.

fuck normal, honestly.

you're done. with worrying and you don't want to see the news. knowing mark got out is enough, and you want to go home to cry.

william doesn't get why all of a sudden you're so tired, and you bode both him and rick goodbye as you leave, not really wanting to third wheel anymore.

rick's sweet, he is, but you just want to be home alone now, and not with anyone else.

the trek back home isn't a long one, but you soften the walk with some music. it's dark out, a little earlier than usual.

just as you reach your house, you look up to your room to see the light is on, and the windows open, which is strange because you swear you switched it off just before you headed out and closed your windows.

you can see the light shining down through the large oak tree in your front yard, and the way the light filters through the leaves is gorgeous.

you can see the curtains billowing from the night air, and you furrow your brows.

might have been a slip of the mind, you reckon.

nevertheless, you unlock your front door, setting down your coat on the hangers, dropping your keys onto the mantle, before heading into the kitchen to make yourself some quick noodles.

your parents are out again, on a date night, most likely. they won't be home for awhile.

as you're waiting for the water to boil, you're standing there rather impatiently. you just want to collapse into bed, it's been a tiring day.

your hands itch for your phone, to search up if invincible managed to get away compltely alright. but you won't. you have to remind yourself that you don't care, that you can't care.

next thing you know, you're letting out a sigh of relief, seeing that invincible got away alright, and then you're swearing at yourself for even caring.

but it's hard to switch it off like a switch, you just can't do that.

once your noodles are done, you're halfway up the stairs when you hear a shuffle coming from your room.

you freeze.

you're waiting for the sound to come again, and when it doesn't, you think it's just a trick of your mind, and you keep walking up.

stopping right at your door, something makes you pause but you're not sure what it is or why you're pausing, but you force yourself to move past it. you push open your door.

it takes your eyes a moment to adjust to the rather bright light all of a sudden, coming from the rather dark hallway. once your eyes do adjust, you see it.

mark.

he's sitting on the floor of your room, holding a hand to his stomach, eyes closed as he rests his head on edge of your bed, his jaw sharp, his neck taut.

his mask is off, flung to the side. you can see it in the corner, and it's covered in blood. his or someone else's, you're not sure.

but the absence of a large abundance of blood on his face makes you think it's someone else's.

"what the fuck." you say, more annoyed than anything else.

then you process the blood. it's on your floor, which is stone, so it's not so bad to clean up, but his suit is torn, and he looks like he's in pain.

"what the fuck, mark." You repeat, and only then does he open his eyes, to look at you.

"hey." he says.

a year and a couple months and all you fucking get is a "hey" like it's only been hours since he's seen you last?

"don't 'hey' me." you snap, setting down your quick noodles and your glass of water, before you think again, picking it up and passing the glass of water to him. he takes it with a grateful look, trying to smile at you.

even his teeth are stained with blood. his injuries look a lot worse in person, rather than on TV.

you stare at him for a while, before you walk to your bathroom, grabbing your first aid kit that you'd once run out to buy once when mark had fallen from the tree in your front yard when you were 13, the one you had used to clean up his cuts back then.

it had sat unused for four years, just waiting to be used again, in the corner under your sink. you have to brush the dirt off of it.

then you have to wash your hands, for the fear of infection.

you come back out, pulling out everything you think you might need.

"what the fuck are you doing here, mark." you snap at him again, pissed that he just shows up after 16 months of absolutely nothing, pretending that everything's fine when he's covered in blood, and this is the first time you've seen him up close in a year.

you're taking out your scissors, cutting the cloth around his cuts, trying to stop the fabric from sticking to it. you hate how close this makes you, hate how it makes the box in your chest ache, hate how you want to be closer.

"i wanted to see you." he groans, when you pull a certain strip of fabric away from a particularly deep cut. even his voice has changed. it's deeper, far more self assured, and somehow just more…mark.

"you wanted to see me?" you scoff, setting your scissors down and picking up some antiseptic cream and a piece of gauze. "you haven't spoken to me in 16 months. you've ignored and dodged me at school, you've left me on read for months, and. you just show up, bleeding and beaten in your invincible suit just completely out of the blue?" you can feel your throat close up as you finish speaking, tears pricking at your eyes.

you rub at them with your sleeves, making sure that your hands remain clean. you put just a little too much iodine solution on the gauze, pressing a little bit harder than you need to.

he lets out a hiss of pain, and it doesn't make you feel better, unlike what you were hoping. "fuck you, mark" you say to him again.

he's silent. he's just staring at you, his face unreadable.

you can see how much he's changed since the last time you were this up close.

you avoid his eye contact, knowing that if you made eye contact with him, you wouldn't be able to hold back 16 months of anger and pain back.

"will you just fucking say something?" you demand, bandaging him up with the rolls and rolls of bandages, basically wrapping him up like a mummy.

"mark. please." you beg.

you feel his hand cup your jaw, making you look up at him, his eye contact making you nervy, tears threatening to spill over your lash lines.

he swallows, mouth dry before he says; "i just… couldn't be around you anymore."

that admission makes you crumble, and you automatically assume the worst. but the way he's handling you now, so soft and gently is at odds with his words.

"what..do you mean?" it's your turn to swallow now, and you realise how parched you really are.

he sighs, as your eyes hone in on a cut on his upper eyebrow, and you're picking up the gauze and iodine solution again, shuffling closer.

you're hesitant to dab at his eye, holding out the gauze out for a moment, to see if he's alright with you being this close to him.

he nods, once, but you notice. of course you notice. you can count the amount of tiny tiny scars he has on his face from here.

you can see the one that's just under his brow , the one he got from a branch when he fell down from the tree, the one you'd helped him clean.

you dab slowly, gently. you've slowed down a little, waiting for his response. you're trying to avoid direct eye contact with mark, but you can still feel his eyes zeroed in on you.

"mark, what do you mean." you repeat, demanding answers. you've had enough of this cat and mouse, where he's constantly running from you. you're not letting him go till you're getting your answers.

he sighs, seeming to understand that you aren't letting go.

"you know, i just couldn't control myself. i want you. like desperately. like more than a friend, more than a best friend. i knew it was more than you were willing to give me , so i tried to distance myself. and once i did, it was harder for me to go back to normal, so i couldn't."

wow. okay. erm. not what you were expecting. but still, that was still a completely dick move.

"you want me?" you ask him, shy. you're hopeful, needing him to say it. the chain around the boxes of your heart snaps.

"i don't just want you, I need you. do you know how much it killed me to see you sitting with that tool jacob?? you smiling at whatever he was saying, but still looking at me? do you know how hard it was for me to pretend like i didn't see you in the hallways? like it wasn't suffocating to walk by you and not talk to you?" your outer heart box splinters.

you want to say something, you really do, but you can't get anything in with the way he's rambling

"my heart squeezes every time i look at you, and it killed me to stay so far away from you." he says, looking up at you again. your hand has stilled from where you were dabbing at his cut, and you're breathless. when the admission sinks in, another shell around your heart breaks.

"i fucking love you, and i never said anything because i didn't want to ruin our friendship." he whispers, like it's hard for him to say it. it probably is. the final box that was keeping your feelings locked up and tucked away, just fucking breaks. you're crying, and you're trying not to show him.

"and i know, i ruined it by walking away, but i didn't want to ruin it by telling you i loved you. and i'm sorry, i'm sorry… i just can't stay away anymore. it really took me almost dying to realise how much i've been needing you." he says to you, his hand cupping your jaw again. his other hand reaches up to your cheek, and his thumb brushes away a tear.

his head is no longer resting against your bed edge, and now he's sitting up rather straight. he's moving into your space, he's so close you can feel his breath fanning across your lips. he smells like blood and the minty spider man toothpaste he's been using for years. he likes to pretend he uses adult toothpaste, but he used to always go back to it.

"i'm sorry," he whispers, and you can feel the words on your lips. "i'll do anything it takes to make it up to you."

"it really took you almost fucking dying to apologise, huh?" you say, voice cracking, brittle from tears. you're trying to play it off, make it seem a little funnier to show him that it's okay. well it's not okay, but you get what he means.

he's trying, and he's always been bad with feelings, and you know this. 16 months will take forever for him to make up for, but you just want him back. you want him back in your life. you want to sit with him at lunch again, you want to be close to him again.

he laughs, and even he sounds like he's been crying.

"you're too good to me." he says, and you're glad he knows it, because if it was anyone else, they'd have been dropped like hot potato.

when you rest your forehead against his, his hands move to your waist, and he lifts you so easily onto his lap. you forget he's a superhero now, and it's too easy for him it's unfair.

you swat him lightly on the chest, apologising when you hear him grunt in pain.

"are you going to kiss me?" you ask him, voice hushed, excited, nervous.

he laughs, and pulls you closer before he captures your lips in his.

he tastes just like he smells like; metallic and minty, a taste so addicting you don't want to come up for air. he somehow tastes sweet in your mouth too, and he groans when you bite him lightly on his bottom lip.

his hands are warm and heavy on your hips, and your knees are pressed against the stone floor on each side of his hips.

your hands tangle into his hair, pulling lightly at his roots. when your nails scratch gently at his scalp, he groans into the kiss.

his groan vibrates through him into your mouth, and you smile against his lips.

he's unrelenting, all fierce kisses and licks, as if he's trying to devour you.

he licks slightly at the line between your lips, and you open, pliant and obedient for him, his tongue snaking in to meet yours, dancing together.

he tastes sweet, if you haven't said before.

when you finally have to break away for air, you rest your forehead against his, breathing hard. he presses a chaste kiss to the corner of your lip, and you kiss another to the scar above his eye, underneath his brow, that he got when he tried to climb the tree up your yard into your room, the one he'd fallen down from.

"this alone isn't going to make up for 16 months," You tell him, despite the smile on your face. "you're not magically forgiven."

he leans in again, smiling against your lips as he whispers, "i know."

later, you're both lying on your bed, both of you tired and exhausted, leaning into each other, when he whispers to you, "weren't you surprised that i was invincible?"

"not really." you respond, not opening your eyes. your head is resting on his uninjured shoulder, face tucked into the crook of his neck.

"why not?" he asks. you think about telling him that you recognised him almost immediately, from the curve of his back, the strong line of his jaw, and the light scar underneath his jaw.

but those things had only been memorised by you because you'd spent more timing staring at him then talking to him, so you decided not to tell him that. maybe you'd tell him one day. instead, you tell him, "i recognised your voice immediately."

he huffs in response.

a/n: goddamn i locked in for this. i had literally posted it and then tried to edit it to check word count but then accidentally deleted it and had to rewrite the entire thing from the kiss scene onwards. i was crying lowk.

anyway. hope you enjoyed!! as always, thank you if you made it all the way down here!!!

as always, likes and reblogs are appreciated, and let me know if you have any comments!! i love reading them.